


Skipping Heartbeats

by frais



Series: Clarity [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Dating, Divorce, F/M, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moving On, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5818981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frais/pseuds/frais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick and Vicky leave Florida with an extra man and a brand new addiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skipping Heartbeats

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the tags I don't think this is as gloomy as the first part - though you probably need to read that part to understand this. I think this was originally started in, like, June, but other stuff happened :/ but it's here now, so enjoy!

_This feels weird. I don't know why I've decided to start writing you now. It's not like you're around to read it anyway. Andy, I'm in Florida and not even on a job. I made a friend last month and decided to come here with her. The sun shines all the time and there's a bunch of old people. It's nice, I guess. I think about Pete a lot. I know I shouldn't, that you should be on my brain 24/7 and believe me, you are too, but it's different. We'll never talk again, I know that. I wonder if I'll talk to Pete again. I'm going out tonight with my friend, Vicky. She's nice, you probably wouldn't like her._

Patrick woke up in a bed that wasn't his. It wasn’t even the bed in the apartment he'd been sharing with Vicky. It was new, and realization hit him hard in the chest. Patrick turned his head to the left to find a sleeping bed-mate with black and gray hair fluttering around his ears. He scrunched his nose up in distaste. He found his clothes spread out over the floor. It took deep steady breaths as he redressed, to stop himself from puking everywhere. The twinge of pain he felt with every bend and pull was obvious for what it was, but he relaxed when he saw a used condom tossed onto the floor. Gross, but relaxing. He just hoped they only did it the once.

It took two hours to get back to the complex he shared with Vicky. It was sunny and bright, nothing like where he lived in Chicago, or even before that in Wisconsin. Vicky was borderline awake when Patrick crept into the apartment, his walk of shame vile and embarrassing. The dogs didn’t seem to mind, though, crowding his feet the moment he walked in. Penny was pawing at his shin and Gizmo was bouncing on top of her. He scooped them both up and rounded the corner to find his friend sprawled on the couch, her dark hair in lank curtains over her face.

"What kind of friend allows me to go back to some old dude's house?" Patrick flopped onto the couch beside her, cringing at the feel of his poor muscles shifting. The dogs soon fled him, crowding beneath the coffee table instead.

"Hey, you told me to go home without you! You were in fine spirits last I saw. You were shooting to kill," she laughed, but she looked as rough as he felt. Patrick licked his finger, wiping away the stray eyeliner beneath her eye. She slapped him hard on the shoulder. "Did it go alright?"

"I don't remember." Patrick sunk his fingers into his eyeballs, headache blocking any sense of memory. He was pretty glad of it, honestly. "Shit. I swear there's something in the booze here."

"I think it's more about the quantity you're drinking it in." Patrick couldn't disagree with that. "You regretting your taste in men now?"

"I have good taste when I'm sober but he was old, Vicky. I don't do old." Patrick didn’t really do anything much. He’d had a few one night stands since arriving in Florida. It wasn’t like he'd even wanted them though. Mostly he would lay there and hate himself until it was over with.

"Drunk you does." Patrick couldn’t argue with that either, so he left her to go take a shower.

 

The next time Vicky said she was going out, Patrick declined to tag along, shaking his head adamantly when she gave him a firm look. "I’ll look after the dogs. I’ll clean the kitchen, but I’m not going out there again, Vicky. Florida is bad for me."

"Your loss," she said, then turned on her heel. "Don't wait up!"

Patrick didn't wait up, but he didn’t sleep either. He kept thinking of Andy and what the fuck he would make of Patrick ruining his life like this. Florida should have been about a fresh start, somewhere for Patrick to find focus and grieve in a more dignified fashion than he’d been doing in Chicago.

"Penny, Gizmo, come here." Patrick grabbed their leashes from the sideboard, smiling when the two little poms came scuttling into view.

Patrick walked them right down onto the beach. He thought about leaving them tethered to a post and heading straight into the ocean, not stopping until everything had gone black. Patrick slapped himself hard for that, ignoring the high whine Penny gave him.

"I'm sorry. Bad thoughts, shitty thoughts," Patrick said to himself, sitting his ass down into the sand. The dogs took pity on him and crawled over his lap, noses sniffling the palm of his hand. "I need a job or something."

Patrick spent a few hours staring at the ocean, the two dogs sleeping on him, before he made moves to leave. It was no better back at the apartment. He stared up at the ceiling, not sleeping until Vicky came tumbling in. She mistook his bedroom for hers, but he just wrapped his arm over her as she fell asleep against him.

_Patrick sighed against the hands holding him up, sighed against the mouth against his throat, at the brush of a beard._

_"Andy, please," Patrick said, always so desperate for the next part, for hands between his legs and fingers in tighter, better places._

_"You should ask about the chickens." That wasn't Andy, the voice came from behind Patrick. He wanted to twist his head, but Andy had a hand to his neck, holding him in place. "Baby boy wants some eggs."_

_"Pete.... " Patrick stammered when he finally recognized the voice. Pete's bleached hair popped up, the scratch of stubble behind Patrick's ear a nice friction. Andy's hands were on his hips and Pete was holding him around his chest and Patrick could feel them both, hard and willing and he just wanted them both. Wanted them both to want him, to have him._

_"Please," he said, hips pivoting to Andy, head crooked back onto Pete's shoulder. "Please."_

Patrick was _never_ sleeping again. He squeezed his thighs in humiliation; in self hate. He was ruining his own image of Andy, of the man he loved for years, with some would be fling. He hated himself so much. He sat, digging his fingernails into his thighs over the fresh pajama pants he was wearing. He stayed like that as Vicky awoke and puttered about the kitchen for quarter of an hour, finally taking a seat beside him.

"Your face is like poison," Vicky mused sweetly, a mug of coffee in her hands. She had been passed out with her back to him when he awoke, wet boxers sticking to his thighs. He'd done _that_ , he'd stooped that fucking low. "Another bad night?"

"I don't sleep and when I do I wish I hadn't."

"It's gonna take time, right? I mean, you're the psychology guy, but it must've been traumatic to see what happened. It's bound to play on your mind." She nudged him softly with her thigh and he tried to smile, but it felt hollow. It felt awful to be alive when Andy was dead. It felt awful to be inserting new men into their sex life so soon.

"It wasn't that," Patrick confessed softly. He didn't really have anything to hide from her. "Sex dreams, you know? But about Andy and Pete at once."

Vicky laughed, a dirty cackle that Patrick tried to shoot down, because it was embarrassing and he felt so guilty and he _hated_ waking up that way, but there was affection in the way she looked at him. "Sex dreams about your married boss and dead boyfriend? That really sucks."

"Yup. I don't know. I feel like I've moved into the second stage of my grief because I'm not crying all the time, but I don't feel better at all. I still feel the same level of hurt." He tried to push his fingers into his thighs again, but she caught the hand closest to him and linked their fingers, stopping him.

"Well if getting drunk and fucking strangers doesn't help and staying home to think about it doesn't either, I'm not sure what else will," she said unhelpfully. Patrick nodded because there wasn't anything to say. "Have you spoken to Pete since we've been here?"

Patrick shook his head. "I didn't think you'd want me to."

"You can do what you want, Patrick," she laughed, giving him an odd look. "I'm not going to stop you."

"No, I shouldn't. It should be a clean break. He's married and I don't know, it wasn't exactly platonic." Patrick twisted his head, so he was staring up at the ceiling. He could see mold filtering down from the ceiling and he was starting to understand why Vicky’s friend left for so long.

"True, but you'll have to do something. Go find a little job or discover some murder to solve or watch _Love Kills_ tonight. That shit is addicting," she said, before standing. "I'm gonna take a shower and then go hang out by the pool. I'll see you later."

 

Patrick was picking through the bedroom to find something to do, he was starting to get bored with walking the humid streets or lounging awkwardly around the apartment with nothing to do. The room was almost bare; a dreary white closet in the corner opposite the bed and sad dusty shutters that would bang against the window at night. Beneath the bed there was an old plastic box beckoning him. Patrick crawled on his belly, smearing dust as he pulled the box out.

"Oh my God," Patrick laughed, seeing rows of small square pastel colored books. He plucked one out; _One For the Road._ Patrick read as far as _Joshua's hips like sin_ and dropped it to the side. Patrick dug through the box, finding more Cowboy inspired ones, then medical romances; a few historical romps as well. Patrick narrowed his eyes; thinking he should hide them away again. He shrugged to himself, grabbing the first one he'd found.

Patrick found Vicky by the communal pool, pretending she wasn't eyeing up their neighbor opposite. Patrick had seen him a few times; tall and gangling, sort of handsome, but loud enough that Patrick had glared a few times when he’d heard him cackling through their walls. Patrick grabbed the lounger next to her, dropping down and resting the newly found book onto his stomach as he settled his hat over his head.

"Jesus Christ, Patrick. People have Kindles for a reason," Vicky said, attention quickly on the book Patrick found. He gave her a quick shrug, opening it up at the very beginning.

"I had a Kindle. I must've sold it with the house, or burned it." Patrick frowned, trying to remember. He hardly used it anyway, he wasn’t much of a reader if it wasn’t case notes or old studies he was analyzing. "But I don't care what people think."

"Well I care, I'm trying to not seem like a weirdo," she hissed. He looked down and noticed she was in a plain black bikini and not the mismatching ones she usually threw on. "Don't show me up."

"I won't." Patrick picked the book up, thumbing it again. He didn’t really want any part in Vicky’s love life. He focused down on the book instead, Patrick was a quick reader. He could have it done in a few hours.

Patrick spent the next few hours ignoring the skin-searing sun and putting all of his efforts into reading about Laura; her road trip along Route 66 and how she started banging a cowboy along the way. There was nothing arousing in the sex, but Patrick was engrossed all the same. A few times he was interrupted by Vicky walking suspiciously slowly, hips working a slow mince to and from the apartment. Patrick went to question it, but then he saw the man looking over with interest and he worked it out for himself.

"You should talk to him," Patrick told her, when Laura had fallen into Joshua's arms for the supposed last time. He needed a break from the hunky lovemaking.

"I'm keeping it cool, Stump." She gave him a look over her glasses. "You should learn from me."

"I’m gunning for celibacy, I don't need to learn anything," Patrick said, turning back to his book once more. He secretly wanted to know how it ended. He was already envested.

Patrick finished the book before the sunburn set in. After, he went inside and smeared himself in after-burn, staring at the dogs for a while, cranking the AC up higher. He lifted the hem of his shorts to see the sad tan-lines he’d caught himself. Patrick was not a man for this weather.

Patrick tried to have an early night, but the moment he shut his eyes he saw the previous night’s dream behind his eyes. He groaned, slapping himself hard before rolling onto his stomach, his hand reaching into the box by the side of his bed. _Dating Dr. Delicious._

"This looks like a good one, Penny," Patrick told his dog, before opening the first page. It was definitely eye opening. Patrick didn't put it down until his eyes started to droop. He slept and he didn't dream of anyone.

 

Kevin phoned Patrick three days later and he was raging. "Why the fuck is there a strange man staying in your apartment? Where the hell are you? Mom’s freaking out."

"What?" Patrick lifted his head from Vicky’s lap, his book falling from his chest. He'd almost been napping until that point. "I’m in Florida right now."

Kevin breathed down the phone for a few seconds, confusion settling into the silent pauses. "What? Why? I thought you were working in Chicago on a case?"

"Yeah I was, but then I solved the case and I … I wanted a vacation so I came to Florida with someone I met. I don’t know why there's a man in my apartment, I didn’t invite him."

"Well, I’m not lying," Kevin blustered and Patrick groaned in frustration, fingers pressing into his eyes as he tried to think things over. He'd forgotten what it was like to deal with shit like family.

"Wait. Hang on a minute. The guy...is he short with tattoos? Bleached hair?" Patrick bit his lip, really hoping he was wrong on this. Pete wasn't that much of a creep.

"Yup. Claims he’s some kind of detective," Kevin snorted. Patrick sighed heavily. He didn't want to be dealing with this at all.

"I know him, it’s fine. I don’t know why he’s in my house, but I know him. I worked the last case with him." They hadn't spoken after saying goodbye in the bar. This wasn't something he'd expected at all and it made him squirm inside.

Kevin saw it a little differently. "We'll, are you sleeping him then? It’s a little soon, Patrick."

"If I was sleeping with him wouldn't he be in Florida with me?" Patrick felt guilt rush to his chest. It was true, so true, he should still be thinking of nothing but Andy. For the most part he was, but Pete was there too and he was so confused. "Don't act like you understand, asshole. You know nothing."

"I know what you’re like, little brother." Kevin took pause and Patrick swore he’d have hit him so hard if they were in the same room.

"I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm just in Florida trying to get happy. I'll phone mom at some point to let her know I'm fine, but please just leave things alone," Patrick said, tugging at his hair and trying to calm his racing heart.

"Fine," Kevin said, "but stop letting strange men have access to your house. Normal people don't do that." Patrick hung up, staring down at Vicky on the couch before he walked out of the room in frustration.

Patrick hadn't phoned Pete once since he'd been away. He'd wanted to, hovered his thumb against his name on his cell, but never pressed down. He wasn't sure why. He still feel so much guilt over what happened. He'd been gone three weeks now, nearly a month, but it was different. Patrick pressed Pete's name and crossed his legs beneath him on the bed.

"Oh my God, Patrick! " Pete's voice sounded loud through the phone and Patrick winced, moving the phone from his ear. " I swear I'll move out, your bother is scary."

"No, he isn't." Patrick sat down on his bedroom floor, soaking up the sound of Pete's voice now it had quietened. "Why are you in my house though?"

"My wife and I are separating and I knew your place was empty. I'm sorry it's such an asshole thing to do, but it's cheaper than a hotel and it's so close to work."

"It's okay," Patrick interrupted. "It's good you're there, I don't have a problem with it. Kevin just kinda shocked me with it."

Pete's laugh sounded like relief and then he hesitated. "Are you alright? How's Florida treating you?"

"It's okay. I'm catching up on some reading, soaking up the sun." Patrick focused on what he'd been doing the last few days and not anything before. He can't really remember much else. It felt like he was underwater without drowning himself.

Pete laughed again and Patrick's heart was starting to hurt in his chest. "You sound fucking thrilled about that."

"I feel like I'm in a trance, but it could just be heatstroke," Patrick said softly. "I'm sorry. Um, to hear about your divorce."

"It was inevitable. There was infidelity on both sides." Pete hesitated for a moment, his breathing soft in Patrick's ear. "I was kinda hoping we'd do the whole living separate for two years before divorcing, but she filed already so I guess not."

"Oh, so on irreconcilable differences? That's not so bad," Patrick said, tucking his thumb between his teeth before biting down. "Feeling kinda grateful that I didn't break your marriage up."

"No, that would be me. That would be her too. Oh God." Pete's voice cracked down the line. "Dude, it's terrible. Divorce blows balls."

"I can imagine," Patrick started to say, before shaking his head. "Actually, no I can't, but I bet it does."

"Yeah." Pete hesitated once again. Patrick didn't want him hanging up, didn't want him disappearing again. "It's been awesome hearing your voice again, Patrick. I hope you're doing better."

"Its progress. But, like, you can call me again if you like." Patrick tried not to sound completely desperate, but his chest had finally stopped pounding and he was actually enjoying it, listening to Pete's voice; hearing him again.

"Do you want me to? I know you wanted a clean break when you left."

"What I want changes day to day, but I feel better talking to you already. I feel empty most of the time, " Patrick confessed. It had been easy with Pete to do so. "I feel empty and it makes me really sad. And I have these dreams."

"You had those before," Pete responded quietly, but Patrick shook his head, making an odd noise.

"Different, a different kind." Patrick thought about the dream, being between Andy and Pete and he flushed furiously. "It doesn't matter, I don't want to hold you up any longer."

"Right, of course." Pete's voice went breezy, a fake laugh shoved onto the end. "I could call you again, though? Would that be alright?"

Patrick smiled down at his knees, elbows digging into his thighs as he did so. "Yes, Pete. I'd like that a lot."

 

Vicky’s posing by the pool must have done the trick because she ended up screwing the neighbor five times a week in their apartment. Patrick started to go out more often, sat in cafés and bars reading his books. He got looks, probably deserved them, because he was a red dude with two Pomeranians reading mommy porn in public. He didn't really care.

_This one time, right after I graduated, remember how I had that job in Michigan and it was my first big job and I was terrified and you packed me my lunch for the flight and you sent me a bunch of really hot photos? I lost my mind a little during the confrontation with the perp and he got me in a headlock. I never told you that because I knew you’d freak like crazy. My boss got so mad because I let myself get close, and I pissed myself in fright. Maybe that’s my most embarrassing moment and I never shared that with you. Sorry.  
Pete’s getting a divorce and living in my apartment. Is that weird? I think it might be. I hope you don’t care._

"I didn’t know people still wrote letters?" Patrick jumped at the voice, seeing Vicky’s beau standing in front of him by the table. Patrick covered his awkward scrawl with one hand, squinting up at the man. Gabe or something.

"I’m writing to my boyfriend. Well, I mean," Patrick shrugged. Ex boyfriend sounded wrong, they didn’t break up. He didn't deserve that title.

"It’s complicated? Don't worry, you can tell Gabey. I keep secrets." He wriggled his eyebrows and Patrick stared in alarm. He couldn't work out if this was overly friendly or creepy. He was usually good at telling the two apart.

"I don’t know if the fact he’s dead makes him my ex or not? Answer me that, _Gabey?"_

"Ah, I’d say he’s just your boyfriend that passed," Gabe said. He gave a genuine smile and Patrick twisted one back at him. He looked a lot better when he wasn't being a flat out weirdo. "That sucks, but now I’m curious. If he’s dead what’s with the snail mail?"

"Dunno, just figured it might help me get over him, might stop me bottling shit up if I tell him. Even though he’s got know way of ever reading this." Patrick pursed his lips as Gabe rested his elbows on the table. He seemed a lot more approachable when he wasn't fucking Vicky in the next room. "I had a very strong attachment to him and then when he died I attached myself to my boss, and then when I figured that was really terrible I got attached to romantic novels and two tiny dogs. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, but it’s all pretty embarrassing."

"Eh. I have a philosophy degree, but work dead-end jobs. You don’t always end up as the person you expect to be." Gabe grabbed a handful of the grapes laying in the middle of the table. Patrick watched him eat, not knowing what else to say.

 

Patrick sloughed through _Man Behind the Pinstripes, Snowbound with the Soldier_ and _First Comes Baby_ in three days. He hid in the bedroom with the dogs, crying through the second one because he remembered Andy rushing him away, renting out a cabin together and hardly leaving it the entire time. Patrick cried so hard it set the dogs off. He tried to stop himself and then just moped around with added embarrassment.

He gave up his short-lived celibacy when he was still fucking miserable a week later. He did shots of Jameson in the apartment with Vicky and Gabe and put on clothes that hid his weird tan lines. They were staying in to fuck anywhere they could and Patrick couldn't stand any more of it. He pushed his hair up, like he wore it for the confession on the last case, then peered at his reflection. He didn't even looks like himself anymore. He wavered before snapping the light off and leaving.

Patrick found a gay bar and let a man buy him some drinks. Patrick looked young and vulnerable, it wasn't hard to get noticed. That's what they all like. The man had tattoos running from his wrists to his neck and Patrick complimented them, touched the red and green swirls. Patrick smirked enough and giggled plenty. He figured if he drank enough the awkwardness would fade and he could forget everything, just for a little bit.

Patrick had never really slept around before, fucked around with one person before college, but mostly focused on school before meeting Andy. He didn't know how to seduce, but it didn't seem to matter. This guy was over him like a rash.

Patrick stumbled out of the bar and into the alley with the dude. He wasn't even nervous, not even when he'd been at enough crime scene alleyways to know this was a terrible idea. At least this guy wasn't a talker, just kissed Patrick against the wall. The grain of the brick rubbed against the back of his head, but he liked it, it took away the numbness.

It wasn't good sex, Patrick didn’t seem to have that anymore, but at least he’d still be sober enough to remember it. The guy was okay, he was using a condom and he wasn't talking. Patrick moved so that he was facing the wall; cheek scraping against brick. It hurt because spit makes shitty slick, and what little lube was on the condom wasn't doing much. Patrick was hard though, and with one forearm cushioning his forehead slightly, he could push the other one down into his pants to grasp at his dick. He only touched it a few times, teeth sucking down into his neck from behind. Patrick worked on the case of a guy that ripped victims throats out with his teeth. Patrick could get bitten right now, could get killed and he wouldn't fucking care.

"Thanks," Patrick said when he'd come. He pushed the man away from him and tugged his pants up. He didn't know if the guy came or not, but he didn't care and just waved a sorry hand at him. The cursing he got in response suggested he hadn't finished. Patrick touched his neck, feeling saliva but no wound. Numbness had started to set in again and Patrick’s stomach twisted.

Patrick went back into the bar and drank himself stupid, this time on beer because it put him into a heavier stupor than spirits. He heard his dad's voice in the back of his head, telling him never to mix his drinks but he shook it away. He hated the numbness tonight, it felt worse than ever; the temporary relief he'd gotten in the alleyway had long since lifted. So he stayed hunched over his bar stool, watching the dancing fools grinding together under the lights. Patrick wanted to slam his head so hard onto the bar beneath his elbows that he'd pass out for a fucking month.

"I’m good at this game; you a college student or a hooker?" Patrick peered through his fingers to see some guy in a suit staring down at him. He looked to be rocking some serious steroid-born muscles beneath the three piece. What the fuck he was doing in a gay bar in Florida dressed like that, Patrick hadn't a clue.

"Depends on the price," Patrick said, sitting up. The room span with the movement, but the man took the seat next to him. "How much do you think I’m worth?"

The man smirked, playing the game as he stole Patrick’s beer for a second. He took out his wallet and Patrick watched him thumb through some notes, looking at Patrick before handing them over to the barman and ordering a scotch on the rocks. "You take plastic?"

"Plus interest," Patrick laughed to himself. He liked this game, stupid as it was. Maybe he’d let this guy think Patrick’s actually into selling himself for money. Maybe he’d call the cops and watch it crash down in the hotel room. This guy could be married though, and Patrick had fucked with enough marriages recently to forgo that idea."I’m not actually for sale."

"Shame, college student then?" The guy said, he touched the side of his tumbler to Patrick beer bottle and winked. Patrick shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.

"If you want me to be."

"I’d prefer hooker, I'm used to those," he confessed. Patrick laughed, wondered if student suited him more than criminal profiler. He wondered if this guy had anything worse than visiting gay prostitutes on his resumé. Maybe Patrick would really get himself into trouble. On closer inspection, under the shitty bar lights, the suit looked like a polyester knockoff. The plastic in his wallet would probably have enough interest on it without Patrick messing with him.

"I just had sex with a hipster, I’d probably fuck you too if you wanted," Patrick said, he wanted to really fuck up tonight. He wanted to go further than getting choked on his kitchen floor, or sex with a stranger in the alley or even the one night stands he'd had previously. He wanted this fool of a dude to take him terrible places.

"Hipsters are shitty in bed," the man said, but Patrick shrugged.

"We did it in the alley, against the side of this bar. Take me to your car, I can make it filthy."

"You move fast, let me catch a drink first," the man said. He stared at Patrick though, was looking at him, at his stupid pushed up hair and pale skin. Patrick could feel his heart beating fast in his throat, he wanted to rip his skin off. He hadn't felt this bad in so long. Mixing his drinks really had been a terrible idea.

They ended up back at the guy’s hotel room. He didn’t want to get his car dirty, but he made a show of flashing the gold magnum in his wallet as they left the bar. Patrick kinda hoped he really was big and that it’d be really painful just so he wouldn't ask the guy to do anything else stupid to him.

It was a fucking Travelodge. Patrick had already clocked onto the fact that this guy probably dressed in his suit ready to pick someone up and live out some weird Richard Gere fantasy; picking up some pseudo hooker. Patrick wasn't sure he made much of a Julia Roberts, but he’d give it a go. 

"We can pretend this is the penthouse," Patrick said, staring at the fake wood panel behind the bed. “You'd hardly know.”

"Can’t have you showing up on my credit card, can I?" There was a thud, the sound of a bag dropping. Patrick was out of snarky comments at that point and just wanted to get fucked stupid.

"You have a wife?"

"Husband. He knows about this, but he don’t want the proof."

"I heard that before," Patrick said, wondering if this guy was telling the truth like Pete had or whether it’s always a lie. He wondered if Andy ever thought of cheating on him, of taking someone back to a hotel and pretending Patrick meant nothing for a while. "I like that I don’t know you’re name."

"Yeah? Get on your knees and I’ll surprise you with a name." Patrick did as he was told. He wasn’t huge, bigger than average maybe, but not worth the gold foil he boasted. Patrick sucked his way through the disappointment, stroked up the length, held onto the base as he mouthed around the head. He'd always been good at this. He could bet that a little fingering would get him a punch in the mouth though. "You up for a come-shot? What I’d give to come over your pretty little face."

Patrick flashed his teeth against the underside in response, and found himself on his back with a stinging cheek. The man clutched at his erection in shock as Patrick laughed hysterically. It was stupid and he was drunk and this was a strange man and Patrick could end up dead in no time. He wouldn’t mind. He was over the numb brokenhearted bullshit he'd been suffering through.

"You do that again and I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a fucking week," The man hissed, face as red as his cock. Patrick felt even more numb as the room spun. He wanted to be scared, but he wasn't. He was ready for anything.

"You’re not that big," Patrick said, settling himself onto the bed clumsily. The man was calming at least, squirting something into his hand.

"Wouldn’t be using my dick, now turn over." Patrick held his gaze for a moment before unbuckling his jeans, pushing them off and turning over. When he looked up, he was staring into the mirror on the outside of the cheap closet. It didn't look like himself, not the Patrick he was used to. He couldn't stop staring.

The guy had an unfortunate amount of stamina. He wouldn’t shut up either; kept telling Patrick what a nice ass he had and how tight he was and how he wanted to come all over his body. Patrick said nothing, but stared at himself in the mirror; at the man fucking him from behind. It felt like he was watching uncomfortable porn, like he wasn't the man in the mirror taking it in the ass from behind. Patrick came at some point, but it wasn’t great. He hadn't had a decent orgasm since Andy died.

When the man eventually came, tugging Patrick’s hair so hard that strands of blond were clinging to his fingers, Patrick just fell face forward onto the bed, unable to move. At least it really hurt this time.

The next morning he woke up staring at the used condom on the floor, just missing the edge of Patrick's jeans. Patrick turned over, but found himself eye-to-dick with the guy’s flaccid penis. He wanted to vomit, but he wasn’t sure if it was the hangover or not. He didn’t feel anything other than that though, just more heaviness.

Patrick sat up, feeling the previous night’s athleticism hit him. He hissed, but tugged his shirt down from where it had rolled up in the night, before moving onto pulling his jeans on.

"You got someone waiting for you at home?" Patrick turned to see the man now awake, legs sprawled with no attempt to hide himself. 

"Not anymore," Patrick admitted. "Sorry I was a shit lay, but I don’t do this and yesterday was a bad day."

"Not the worst," he said cheerily. "I’d like to see you again."

"No, you wouldn’t," Patrick laughed, sliding into his shoes and grabbing his wallet from the floor before leaving the room. "Next time you want to pretend to be some hot high flier at least book in at the fucking Hilton."

Patrick was too hungover and sore to work out where exactly he was when he left the hotel. He licked his dry lips, wandering the streets and feeling the pain set in. He'd puked in a side street and felt a little better for it, but the numbness had come on strong again, overtaking the nausea. He eventually found a bus station and hopped his way over a couple of lines until he made it back to where the apartment was. The previous night's events hadn’t caught up with him, but he was left with the itching feeling that he’d done something seriously idiotic.

He walked the stairs to his apartment, feeling like maybe it would be best if he just took another walk down to the ocean. This time he wouldn’t stop. If he didn't die then maybe the water would wake him from the constant numbness.

He wanted to wake from it with every step he took to his floor, until he felt like he was drowning, choking on the numb sensation that never fucking left anymore. Patrick slammed his head into the door, hedging his bets that the pain would make it more tolerable. He did it three more times, blood smearing against the door until he felt hands under his arms.

"Yeah, that's enough of that." Gabe palmed Patrick down until he found the keys to open the lock. Patrick's toes dragged along the ground as he was dumped into a chair, Gabe opening cabinet doors until he found what he was looking for. Patrick could feel blood trickling down his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, but he focused more on his hands that refused to stop shaking.

"What am I doing? What am I doing?" Patrick watched Gabe sit beside him, a red medical bag next to him.

"You tripped into the wall multiple times," Gabe said, lifting Patrick's bangs away from his forehead. He pulled a face, but grabbed some gauze. "For any particular reason?"

"I had sex with two strangers last night," Patrick admitted, noting the way Gabe froze slightly.

"You need me to take you to a clinic?"

Patrick laughed. "No. They used condoms. It wasn't a threesome, two separate men. I don't know why. Don't tell Vicky."

"Okay." Gabe winced as Patrick hissed, the stinging a whole lot worse now that it was being tended to. "You're never gonna win a fight against a door, just so you know."

"I know. I'm just so numb, I wanted to wake up." Patrick tried to move away, but Gabe held onto the back of his head. "I think I've gone a bit loopy."

"No, you just need to take it easy. Chill out and enjoy the week or so you have left. Maybe you just needed to get fucking out of your system."

"I barely did any fucking, I just laid there…. That's all I do, I lay there and let men fuck me and it's literally like I'm not even in there. It's like I'm watching. It was like that with Pete the one time, it was like that last night and every other time I've had sex since Andy died."

"Pete?" Gabe questioned, yanking a pink band aid from the wrapper and plastering it over Patrick's forehead.

"He was running the case I was on before we left. It shouldn't have happened but it did, but then he was talking about love and he has a fucking family, but now he's getting divorced so that's probably my fault too. Though he says--"

"Don't think I've ever heard you say so much." Gabe leaned back on his chair. He looked contemplative and Patrick was getting a headache. "You might wanna invest in a shrink when you get back to Chicago. Even I can tell you need some help."

"Grief with a touch of PTSD. I know what's wrong with me. I'm healing myself, I'm trying to." Patrick touched his forehead, but hissed. "I'm going to fix myself."

"Try not to fight any more doors then. That's all I can say." Gabe was still staring. "I'd say you need a strong drink, but you smell like a liquor store already."

"I don't think I wanna do what I did last night again."

"Sex?" Gabe raised an eyebrow.

"Yep. And no more self-harming either." Patrick tapped his head and then winced. He was stupid, such a fucking idiot that got too out of touch with himself, but he wouldn't let it happen again. Maybe slamming his head was a wake up call… For now at least, until the ache set in again. "When I get low I think I'll write to Andy some more. Maybe read some more of my romance novels."

Vicky came back with groceries ten minutes later. Patrick had started on _Manhunting in Miami_ , Gabe sitting opposite him reading a three day old newspaper. Patrick could tell he was watching him though, could sense eyes and mind on him. 

"I've got all the essentials! Captain Morgan, condoms, some of those weird yogurts you eat, Patrick." She rustled the bags on the table, lifting up one of the aforementioned yogurts.

"They're not weird, they're made from coconut milk." Patrick looked up when she went silent, to find her narrowed eyes boring into his face. "I fell down some stairs, I'm fine."

"I don't--"

"I witnessed it myself, but I patched him up good. Your friend only had pink band aids in the cabinet so he's having to deal with that." Gabe winked at Patrick when Vicky walked over, pushing Patrick's hair back to stare at his new look.

"Cute." she smirked, dropping the subject as she sauntered back into the kitchen. "What kind of idiot falls down the stairs and doesn't break a bone."

"Guess I was lucky," Patrick said, but he couldn't meet Gabe's eyes this time.

Patrick was dragged along to karaoke that night. He wasn't drinking and he didn't really want to be there, but he still had a few moments of clarity where he knew he'd regret staying in home alone again. 

They ended up doing a terrible rendition of En Vogue, and the harmonies were all off, but Gabe pulled out some serious moves and Patrick felt like a little gnome between the two of them, but it was fun. They didn't win, they didn't even come second. They ended up arguing about harmonizing vocal groups of the nineties which was weirdly specific for Patrick, who was as sober as anything, but he wasn't made to feel like the third wheel and any time he did think about finding a man for the night, his pounding headache put a stop to it.

 

He'd tired of the sun and of wearing nothing but shorts and t-shirts weeks back, but he liked the lack of responsibility here. It would probably do him good to not see the ocean for a while, it made him think bad thoughts. He'd made some pretty terrible decisions recently and he was ready to move on from it. He was pretty confused though, when he started packing the car up to see Gabe come strolling down the steps of his apartment with a packed bag over his shoulder, smiling wide.

"Oh," Patrick said awkwardly. "I didn't realize you were coming too."

"Why stay and be miserable when I can come along for the ride?" Gabe smirked, dropping his bag into the back. "Also, Vicky says you nearly crashed on your way down here, so we're not letting you drive this time. "

"That's unfair," Patrick said, because he honestly hadn't seen the stoplight change to red until the last moment, but he’d just started a new book - another cowboy romp - and they were his favorite. It was the best of a terrible bunch. He sat wedged into the back, ignoring the two up front as he read. He couldn't get into this one as much, it wasn't enough to stop the way his stomach twisted and turned at the thought of being back in Chicago. He did still have a couple of weeks before starting his job at the station, but it would hopefully be enough to deal with his feelings for Pete, to calm Kevin down, and figure out the rest of his sad life.

They pulled into a motel at dusk and took two rooms this time. When they left Chicago, they'd taken the one room and Vicky had spooned Patrick as he'd stayed awake thinking about the previous few weeks. Patrick said goodnight to Vicky and Gabe, turning down their offer for dinner. He locked himself into the room, spending the rest of the night playing with the dogs and finishing his book.

"This time tomorrow we'll be back at the old apartment, Penny," he told his dog as he laid under the sheets. Gizmo stared up at him, like he was aware they were going to be separated. "I dunno, Gizmo. I know this is hard, but I'll still see you a few times a week." Gizmo whined and Patrick kisses his black head. "I know, boy, I know."

Patrick tried to call Pete, but he got no response; nothing but a voice-mail and he figured he must be working. They'd spoken a few times since Kevin's interference, and he nearly always made time to text Patrick back if he couldn't talk. That night, he got nothing in return.

_Feeling lonely tonight, Andy. If you were here you'd let me bitch and stroke my hair like you used to. I feel like I've been replaced a little bit by Vicky. Silly, isn't it? But I know what the first throes of love is like and I don't want to deny her happiness. Gabe seems nice, so really why am I complaining? I'm sad, but she isn't and I should let it go. Still, I want to cry even though I don't do it so much anymore. I wish we were back in our old house, I wish we were sitting up on the veranda with blankets and tea in a flask. I miss the scratch of your beard against my forehead right now, how I could feel your heart beating beneath the tips of my fingers. Fuck, Andy. I was never this introspective, was I? See what you dying has done to me? Think I'm going to cry myself to sleep now. Goodnight._

They left early the next morning. Patrick was quiet, but so were the other two. He wondered if he was too loud, whether they'd heard him crying through the wall.

"Do you still have your apartment?" Patrick asked, leaning forward from the back of the car. He didn't really feel like reading, his mind on other things. Vicky turned to face him from the passenger side.

"Yeah, but we better hope we get jobs soon so I can afford to rent it still," she said, her carefree nature dropping as the reality settled. "It's probably infested with God knows what since I've been gone."

"Well, you guys can always stay with me if you need to," Patrick offered, but Vicky reached around to pinch his nose.

"You live in a one bedroom apartment, idiot. We’re not kicking you to the couch."

"Patrick’s only little, we could snuggle up with him between us," Gabe offered, clearly not completely ignoring the conversation.

"No," Patrick said to that idea. "I think I'd rather the couch than that."

"You loss," Gabe said, but then he was pulling off the highway. "Anyway, isn’t your old boss living in your place at the moment?"

"He moved into a hotel room last week," Patrick said, "I don’t know why he doesn’t just rent an apartment, but I think he wants to get a house for his sons soon, so I don't know." Patrick looked away, aware of Vicky staring at him.

"I'm still not sure if I like him or not," Vicky mused, giving Patrick another firm look before turning back around, twisting the dial on the radio up.

Patrick's knees seized up an hour later, crushed by cases and other junk wedged into the car. He was the smallest so he knew he shouldn't complain. He pulled faces at the two poms in their carriers, before fishing another book out and opening it. When they pulled up to Patrick's apartment it was as if the past six weeks hadn't happened. Patrick stared up at the building, unsure of the emotions inside.

"You know... we could stay the night," Vicky said softly, eyes fixed on Patrick's profile. He shrugged her off, shaking his head and kissing her cheek. When Gabe lent over, Patrick hesitated before kissing him as well.

"It's alright. I'll call you tomorrow, check in, but I'll be okay." He grabbed his case, his bag of books and Penny, before hopping out of the car.

Things were different in the apartment. Patrick's mail laid neatly on a polished coffee table, but the rest of it looked different. Patrick's walls were freshly painted in a pale blue, offsetting the feature wall Pete had fixed up before Patrick left. Even his floors had been polished to a shine and he had actual curtains. Pete clearly had some time on his hands. It was great, but it still didn't feel like home and he doubted it ever would.

Patrick headed to the bedroom to dump his case and saw that the sheets looked fresh and matched the drapes. There was a rug on the floor too. Patrick lifted it to see if Pete had accidentally spilled something on the carpet, but it was clean underneath. He didn't understand.

Patrick took a shower to wash away the journey and he turned on his TV, not expecting much. Pete had clearly paid for a new Cable package with the amount of channels he now had. It's not like he had anything against Pete staying while he was away, but it felt like a step in the wrong pitiful direction.

Patrick called Pete's cell again but he just got his voicemail once more. Patrick thought back to their last conversation - whether he offended Pete - but he sounded fine. Pete had talked about the case he was working on; a murder-suicide, something they both hated, but nothing much more than that.

Patrick slept on his couch instead of his bed, his heels pressed to arm, fingers pressed into the cushions either side of his knees. Penny stayed curled up in his lap, whimpering softly. They both missed Gizmo sleeping near them.

 

"I think I'm gonna quit my job, I dunno," Patrick said the next afternoon. He'd found his way to Vicky's apartment and it was a mess of clothes and Gabe's shit. Gizmo and Penny were curled up together on his lap. "Thinking of opening a doggy day care."

Vicky laughed. "What? From your apartment?"

"Yeah. Maybe just a dog walker for now because of my place, but I dunno. I like dogs." He hesitated, alternating between stroking the two dogs.

"I know, but the pay is shit. You're like a trained Profiler, that's like the coolest thing ever. Why would you wanna switch?"

"Just don't wanna go back to work. Pete's not answering his cell and I don't wanna go back to that station. I think I made a fool of myself." Patrick did what he had to to get a confession, but it was in front of a ton of officers that had weeks to talk shit about him without any defence.

"He won't be your boss this time though, right? Aren't you working different departments?"

"Yeah, I guess they don't trust me on active cases. It's cold case stuff, so we'll see." Patrick resigned himself to that fact he'd be going back. He liked his doggy daycare idea though. Dogs were better than cops in every way. "I think I'd be good at looking after dogs."

"Sure, but maybe that's a job for when you retire." Vicky sat beside him, hand firm in his hair. Sometimes she treated him like a dog to pet; like a third pom. He didn't really mind. 

"Where's Gabe at? " Patrick asked, when the stroking got too much.

"Job-hunting. He didn't wanna postpone it." She blew her bangs out of her face. "I'm gonna go back to the bar later, see if I can get my old job back. Back to reality now."

"Pete's been ignoring my calls," Patrick admitted, swiftly changing the subject. "Nothing changed or anything, we didn't fight, but I don't know. I guess he got bored of me."

"He's probably just busy with work," she batted a sharp hand. "He's hooked on you. He isn't gonna give you up."

"I still don't know what I want. I still don't know if I'm okay. Is that weird?" Patrick looked at her, feeling bad about landing this all on her when she'd been doing half the driving the past few days.

"Andy died, it's not like he dumped you. It'll take time, I guess. I've never lost anyone, but did you honestly think a month in Florida was going to fix you?"

Patrick shrugged in response. He didn't know what the fuck was happening at any point. He'd never been good at making decisions for himself.

He left Vicky's, to let her rest and unpack, wandering the city for a while, acclimating himself to his old/new home. He always felt his shortness when walking through crowds, like he could seep down into the pavement and no one would notice.

He stopped outside a café and grabbed a coffee, sitting on a bench to sip at it with Penny roaming his feet. As more terrible thoughts soaked in, he grabbed at the small book in his back pocket. Patrick's phone buzzed in his jeans and he sighed, holding his coffee between his knees as he wiggled around for it. When he unlocked it, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

_Been stabbed @hospital. Wasn't ignoring u._

"Holy shit." Patrick almost choked on his tongue, his brain whirring into gear. He stood up, forgetting about his coffee cup, hissing when it soaked into his sneakers. He headed home in a rush, changing his shoes and kissing Penny goodbye. He grabbed his car keys before leaving his apartment. All hospitals were a maze to Patrick, but when he found a nurse to help, it wasn't long before she was guiding him to the correct ward. She warned him that it wouldn't be too long before visitation was over, but Patrick just nodded politely, waving her off.

Pete was either asleep or faking it, his shoulder patched up from the wound. Patrick stared at him a good while, hair still very much blond, but with dark stubble growing in. He looked pale, but he hadn't any other wounds that Patrick could see. Patrick leaned back in his chair, opening his book. It was pretty raunchy, this one. _The Devilish Duke_. It didn't get Patrick off, they never did, but there was less plot and more moans than anything else. Patrick burned through it quickly, not focusing on anything, jumping out of his skin when Pete started talking.

"Jesus, what the fuck are you reading?" his voice was a little hoarse, but he didn't sound deathly. Patrick lowered his book to stare at Pete.

"It's my new thing, but whatever. Are you okay, what happened?" Patrick narrowed his eyes when Pete grimaced. Something bad, he knew already.

"I was at a bar… Got into a little disagreement, but they backed their fists up with a blade. I'm alright." Pete laughed as Patrick scanned the patched up wound.

"It didn't get bone? What were you fighting about?"

"Dunno, just shit-talking that turned into this." Patrick had no clue what that even meant; he never got into that kind of trouble. Pete laughed at him, like he understood. "Just chilling in here because I don't have a house right now and they won't let me go home alone."

"Do you need a place to stay?" Patrick asked. God, it felt good to be talking about someone else and not discussing his own sad existence for once. 

"Oh, I'm gonna crash at Joe's house for a few days, let Marie feed me up," Pete grinned, warm eyes latched onto Patrick's face. "Thanks for the offer though."

"You've basically turned my apartment around, it looks good." Patrick touched his hand to Pete's wrist. He noticed he wasn't wearing his wedding ring, but he quickly looked away from that.

"I needed something to do after the break up. Get my mind off the shit spinning around my head, you know?"

"Yeah, that's sort of why I've been reading these books, they're terrible, but I don't know. They keep my mind off worse things," Patrick admitted, smiling down at Pete.

"Yeah, yeah." Pete gave a dirty smirk, like he didn't believe a word Patrick was saying. "How was Florida then?"

"It was different," Patrick said. "I don't know how it helped, if it did or not, but I was ready to come home. Not sure if I'm ready for work though. I don't think I want to go back."

Pete frowned. "What? Why not? You're awesome at your job."

"I'm good at my job, but the thought of going back... I don't know. I have a bad feeling about it."

"You got another thing in mind? Give it a few more years on the job and you could go into teaching." Pete assured Patrick. He'd somehow wormed his fingers around Patrick's and was holding on tight, thumb rubbing over his knuckles.

"Doggy day care," Patrick grimaced at the bulging of Pete's eyes. "I spend most of my time hanging with Penny and Gizmo and so that's what I think about. I want to spend time with my Pomeranians and nothing else."

"You probably just need to get back into the swing of things again. You liked focusing on the case before, right?" Pete's throat was getting dry from all the talking, so Patrick fussed around, pouring him a water from the jug on the table beside the bed.

"Yeah, I guess." Patrick handed over the drink, watching Pete drink it down. "Enough about me. Are you really okay? What's the recovery gonna be like? Any repercussions at work?"

"It's not bad, just a flesh wound really, but I reacted to the pain meds, that's why they kept me in. Work are disciplining me even though it happened off shift, but I'd already kinda fucked up at work prior to that. I'm on unpaid suspension and I've got a meeting in about a month to see if they're going to take things further. Just when I was getting somewhere in my career. I feel like I've fucked it all up, Patrick."

"This does seem like a bit of a setback," Patrick said, scrunching his nose up when Pete rolled his eyes. "What about the guy that did this?"

"Ran off, didn't he? Whatever, we'll get him at some point." Pete gave the plastic cup back to Patrick. "Give me a pep talk or something."

"Um, you're in a transitional period right now. Things are changing and it might seem bad, but you'll be happier in the long run," Patrick was talking out of his ass, but with one hand stroking through Pete's coarse hair, he didn't seem to be complaining about it. "Are you seeing your kids a lot?"

"Yeah, they're with their mom, but she was letting me come over to put them to bed each night." Pete caught Patrick's hand from where it was resting against his neck, and tucked it up with his own hand again, his own fingers touching Patrick's face lightly.

"That's good. And it wasn't acrimonious?" Patrick was starting to get a little uncomfortable talking about it. It was something that he hadn't ever wanted to involve himself in. It was simply a side of Pete that he just didn't want to know about.

"I mean, it wasn't completely serene," Pete laughed, but then his face sobered up, his thumb on Patrick's lower lip. "God, you're so pretty. I think I forgot."

"Oh thanks." Patrick flustered at the compliment, smiling down at Pete before looking away. "I think I might be permanently sun-burnt though."

"You are a little red," Pete said, but he locked his hand over Patrick's wrist and he wasn't letting go. "You look healthier, better than before."

"Fatter, you mean? This is more me than what you saw before. I had a few bad moments in Florida, but I think I'm getting better." Patrick picked his book up from the floor and waved it in Pete's direction." Honest to God, these books have helped, as stupid as that sounds."

"It takes all sorts," Pete shrugged, his eyes starting to droop. Patrick stumbled into another small smile, but then he ruffled Pete's hair and said goodbye, promising to come back tomorrow.

_If I hadn't sold our old house maybe I could've set up a nice doggy day care. The garden was so big and we never did much with it. Maybe I could forgo the chickens for some dog furniture. Would you have allowed that? You loved dogs and you loved me so I don't think you'd have denied me it, even if you'd insist I was only doing it so I don't have to go to work. That's just because you knew me so well. I don't know what's stopping me from wanting to work.  
Pete got stabbed because he's a fucking hotheaded drunk, but he seems in good spirits. I couldn't bare to lose him as well, so at least he's not dead._

 

Patrick headed over to Vicky's the next day, wondering whether he was developing too much of a dependency on her. He hoped not, but either way, once he had Gizmo and Penny crawling excitedly over his lap, he didn't care.

"Guess what?" Patrick said, frowning when he heard a weird noise, but it was apparently just Gabe singing in the shower. "Pete got stabbed in a bar fight and he's in hospital."

"Hmm." Vicky made a sound that wasn’t exactly impressionable. "What a fucking idiot. Is he okay?"

"Should be. I'm gonna go see him in a bit." Patrick stroked his hands through the fur of the nearest dog. "I still feel so confused about everything, though."

"Sure, but he's literally in the middle of a divorce, Patrick. He's not gonna be expecting a whole lot from you," she said softly, rubbing his shoulder for a few seconds.

"He told me he forgot how pretty I was. Is that a compliment? Should I enjoy being called pretty or should I aim for handsome instead? I wanna go back to Florida."

"What, so you can read your shitty books and have sex dreams? Fuck a few old dudes again?" Vicky laughed when Patrick pulled his wrist from her grasp. "Stop trying to run from your problems and talk it out with him."

"I feel sick when I think about sex," Patrick admitted, "I don't know when that happened. I mean, I do, but I don't want it to turn into this serious issue." As far as he was aware, she didn't know about his night in the Travelodge; his fight with the door that Gabe interrupted.

"I don't know how to help you there, maybe you should think about getting some more therapy," she said softly and pity dripped from her tongue. Patrick swallowed and laughed it away, wishing he hadn't said anything.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it." He stood up and grabbed at Penny. "I'm gonna go back to the apartment, maybe call my mom, but we'll talk later." He saw her hesitate, like she wanted to call him back, but she let him go. He ended up shuffling his way across town, sitting in his nice apartment, writing to Andy once more.

_You know, Andy, it's not like I'm repulsed by sex right now or that the thought of it strikes fear into my chest, but I do feel uncomfortable about being intimate with anyone. I'm ashamed about how I behaved out in Florida. I've never been one to sleep around like that. And then even with Pete what the fuck was I doing? I had him put his hands around my neck like that and then I puked afterward and it was so embarrassing, but I know he'll want to fuck me again and it's not like I want to say no, but I think maybe I'm just scared. It's not easy at all, it's past the losing you part. My entire future feels fucked up and I don't know what to do. Was I ever passive with you? I could be submissive, I guess, but never passive. That's all I've been recently; laying there and letting things happen. There were times, Andy, when I would be at some bar hoping for my drink to get spiked, just so I'd have something else to fucking focus on. I couldn't ever tell anyone that, I'm so ashamed, so I'm telling you instead.  
I wonder, who would you move on with if you'd let the car hit me? Should I not think like that? Is it crude? I hate myself a lot right now, and I don't know if it's fixable. I miss our house so much, even though I couldn't think of living in it alone. It still hurts knowing other people own it now. It’s a dumb thing to be bummed out by, why am I so weird? Most of all, I miss you, but what's new there?_

 

Pete was awake by the time Patrick turned up at the hospital the next day, bitching about physio to a nurse helping him pack his stuff up. Patrick smiled politely at them both, catching the way Pete's eyes lingered on him a little longer than Patrick's comfortable with. He looked down and waited around until the nurse left.

"At least with my suspension I won't be assigned desk work," Pete said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Patrick looked at his bare arms, one wrapped in a bandage and gauze. It didn't look all that bad. "Thanks for coming back though."

"Of course." Patrick smiled, hands wedged into his pockets as he shuffled his feet. "Are you leaving today?"

"Yup, Trohman's picking me up after work. I'm hoping I won't be there too long." Pete licked his lips and looked away, stumbling over his words a few times. "Hey Patrick, I really don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Everything makes me uncomfortable these days," Patrick laughed as he sat down beside Pete. "I'm still struggling with some stuff, but uh, I wanna be your friend and support you through this. Like, getting better and your divorce. All that stuff."

"Don't be so sweet," Pete drawled with an eye roll, but he leaned in and Patrick heard the whisper of a thank you against his ear.

"Well, okay," Patrick laughed nudging his shoulder with Pete's good one. "I've still got a bit of time until I have to go back to work, so if you want to hang out while Joe's at work, we can." He looked at Pete's profile; tired eyes and as sallow as Patrick was red.

"Sure, I'd like that. Might get my mind off everything else." There was a pause, enough for Patrick to cringe at the sound of rubber soles squeaking on linoleum outside the room. "You know, you shouldn't keep coming back here. I can't imagine how hard it must be to be in a hospital."

Patrick frowned in confusion before he understood. "Oh. Andy didn't-- he was already gone before the ambulance came. They took him to the hospital, but I never went. I didn't want to see anymore. Hospitals just remind me of work, really, not any of the other shit."

"Alright," Pete nodded, looking the other way. "I'll call you tomorrow, if you like? Maybe we can meet up for coffee or something? You can tell me all about your filthy books?"

"Okay," Patrick said, laughing. They weren't filthy at all, just mildly erotic.

 

Patrick read _Millionaire in a Stetson_ that night and tried to imagine himself bagging some rich dude and not having to worry about anything. Patrick had money, but he wasn't sure if he'd be any happier with a sugar daddy. Patrick figured it was too late to be doing so much navel gazing, but he couldn't sleep. He emailed Kevin instead, apologizing for the whole Pete misunderstanding and promising to visit soon.

The next morning he ended up opening his mail and staring down at a weird letter. It was a prison visitation request from Larkson. In truth, Patrick had barely thought about him, pushed it to the back of his mind like all the other cases he’d worked on. Patrick wasn't one to dwell on his work.

He ended up at Joe's house, barely remembering the route until Pete texted him the address. Marie and Joe were both out, leaving Pete with the baby. Patrick swapped Penny for her quickly, fingers pressed against her sweet cheek as he took a seat in Joe's living room, sinking into soft leather.

Patrick bounced her in his lap, staring into her soft open face, wanting for something that he didn't know. Someone to love him, maybe, like babies love their parents. Someone to throw all his affection and thoughts at so nothing else could possibly fill his mind.

"How old are your boys?" Patrick asked, when she started to nod off in his arms. He could feel the beat of her heart beneath his hands and it terrified him slightly.

"Seven and three," Pete smiled as he talked about his kids and that was cool. Patrick thought it was pretty sweet. "I don't wanna put them through this divorce, but there wasn't another option anymore."

"I mean, if your marriage was bad enough to end, you're probably doing the right thing for them. I was eight when my parents divorced and it didn't affect me too much. It was more the stuff that came after, like second families and stuff." Patrick couldn't even really recall them fighting all that much; his dad traveled for work and so it wasn't like he saw him a lot anyway. "They'll be okay as long as you make sure they're loved."

"They are loved. Like, neither was planned, but God, they're loved." Pete's face closed up and Patrick looked away. "We don't have to talk about this. I try to save my moping for Joe." Patrick didn't quite get why Pete wouldn't want to talk divorce with him, but he let it go. Maybe it was because of the whole affair thing. If that's what it was even close to being.

"Well, okay. I did want to talk to you about something, but I should probably put the baby down first." Patrick stood up, and on Pete's directions, took her to her nursery before scooting down next to Pete again. "I got a letter today, apparently Brian Larkson wants to meet me. He's asked for a visitation and I don't know. I've never had anyone ask before."

"Are you gonna go?" Pete's eyebrows raised in surprise and Patrick shrugged his shoulders, unsure of how to answer.

"I know it's because he connects me to his son now, but I guess there's no harm in seeing how he is. I've never really followed a case through before though, I don't think about all the guys inside once they're caught."

"If you think it's a good idea to see him, you should go," Pete hesitated. "Just be careful though, and maybe keep slutty Patrick at home."

"Slutty Patrick is, like, never coming out again. I still cringe when I think about it," Patrick admitted. He'd do most things to get a confession, but spreading his legs and rubbing his dick in front of a bunch of straight men his dad's age was pretty much reaching the top of his uncomfortable meter.

"I liked seeing that side of you, I hope I see it again," Pete muttered so low that Patrick pretended to ignore it. Pete's hand was daring though, fingertips brushing the side of Patrick's neck.

"Yeah, so I just wanted to get your opinion on it." Patrick's change of subject had Pete dropping his hand to his lap, his eyes moving from Patrick's face.

"You have to do what you think is right, but I'd go if you think you can handle it," Pete said, and Patrick nodded, faking a smile.

 

"This is a bad idea, a bad fucking idea," Vicky said when he told her his plan the next day. She was at his place, in part because she was booked to look at an apartment downstairs. Patrick's landlord had phoned the night before saying she had an empty place below him and if he knew anyone interested to let her know. He felt weird telling Pete about it, but Vicky's place, in reality, was way too small to house Gabe.

"I think it’ll be good for you guys to be closer to me. It’s weird, not having Gizmo with me every night," Patrick confessed, changing the subject to one that was a little easier. "But you guys moved insanely fast. It was a terrible idea probably, but I’m happy for you." He teased his hair up into the pushed over quiff he sported during his interrogation with Larkson before he combed it to it's normal position.

"I know everyone thinks we've moved too fast. It was fine when we were on vacation, but shit. It's different back home." She rubbed at her tired eyes and stared at Patrick pulling off a pair of jeans for another. "Christ, Patrick. I can see your dick through those jeans."

Patrick looked down at himself and adjusted carefully until he was a little more tucked away. "If I'm going to visit Larkson today, then I want to tone it down from last time, but also not look quite as Patrick as I normally do."

"I'm not gonna question how fucked up that is," Vicky said, but then she craned her neck and peered around Patrick. "You sure you wanna wear jeans that tight around a bunch of convicts? Your ass is pretty noticeable. Something fresh for them to stare at."

"That's a vile joke," Patrick deadpanned, but he'd heard worse, and with Pete's leather jacket, it'd hide anything too obscene. "Pete says he wants to see my slutty side again. Does that mean he's still in interested?"

"You know he is." She rolled her eyes, but then pinched at the skin pushing out over the top of his jeans. "If he saw you now, I don't think I'd even be in the room."

"He should be focusing on his divorce instead of thinking about me." Patrick went through fits and bursts over feeling terrible about the whole Pete and his divorce thing. He was glad it wasn't his fault, that they broke up for separate reasons, but it still made him uneasy.

"You're the one having dirty dreams about him. Come on, Patrick. There's nothing wrong in what he's doing, but if you don't like it then tell him to stop."

"I don't want him to stop. I do like him, but..." Patrick puffed his cheeks out. "Everything feels like a betrayal right now, particularly what I'm doing with him."

"He’s not married anymore."

"Technically he is. I meant more because of Andy. It still feels really soon." Patrick groaned, he wouldn't let it overwhelm him today, he wouldn't let it get the better of him. He had been better since coming home, hadn't had any of really bad thoughts that had overtaken his brain in Florida. Maybe it _had_ been the sun and heat fucking with him. 

"You deserve fun, Patrick. Don't deny yourself that."

"I don’t know. Plus he just got stabbed for being a fucking idiot, and we’ll be working in the same place. Maybe we’ll just hang out and he’ll meet someone better for him. I think that’s probably the best thing and we can go back to being just friends."

"None of that made sense or linked up properly, but you’re cute and your current outfit is tainting my image of you so just...go talk to your serial killer and I’ll call you later to see how it went. Don't fuck things up with that idiotic detective either." Vicky more or less pushed him out the door. Patrick was a little confused but he waved goodbye to her anyway.

Patrick’s anxiety kicked up a notch when he was passing through the security of the prison. He’d visited on occasion, though not in the same way. Brian was large and still easy to spot, though he looked less broad than before. The jumpsuit and lack of heavy coat may have had something to do with it, though the way he stared at Patrick when he spotted him wasn't anything less than uncomfortable.

"Patrick," he said. "You look good. Thank you for meeting me."

"How are you doing, Brian? " Patrick asked through the phone. He kept his nerve, resting against the plastic back of the chair, his thighs spread just so. Brian looked down and Patrick cringed, but didn't close his legs; waited until Larkson's eyes slid up his body and centered on Patrick's again.

"It's not so bad in here. A man like me gets by just fine, but I think... " Larkson's tongue slid out to wet his lips. "Someone like my son... A boy like you wouldn't do well. They're carnal in here and you'd be fresh meat. It keeps me up at night thinking about it."

"Jack hadn't ever been in trouble with the law. He was unlikely to end up in here." Patrick kept eye contact and his breathing steady. "And I'm not a boy."

"But you wouldn't last. A sweet face like that means one thing in here," Brian laughed, creased face splitting as he bellowed broadly. A guard walked by, eyes on Larkson, but Patrick kept his cool, shaking his head when the guard gave him a questioning look.

"Well, I walk a good line. I don't plan on ending up in here anytime soon. So, you're keeping your head down? Making use of the Chaplain?" Patrick changed the subject, focused on no one else in the room, hand curled around the phone connecting them both. He wasn't scared, but he was uneasy and Larkson's grief has shifted; showing something more sinister than their previous meeting.

"I've been talking to God, not like before, but trying to understand. The priest tries talking to me, but he has nothing of interest to say." Larkson shuts his eyes, large hand pressing against his mouth." I think of my son, the way he looked right before his death. He was blossoming into a man." His eyes peeled open as he lent forward. "You look so much like him, Patrick."

"We aren't that alike," Patrick said softly. "You're getting things confused."

"You should come back and visit me. Do you have a wife? Children? Write and tell me about them. Tell me about your life." Brian lifted a hand to the clear panel separating them, tracing the outline of Patrick's jaw against it.

"I'm not your son, Brian. Don't get things confused just because of a few shared personality traits." Don't get personal, Patrick remembered, and tried to stick to it. It was making his heart beat fast though, being in here with no familiar backup.

"Don't make the mistakes he did. Stick to men your own age, don't play with men that don't belong in your life." Brian stared at Patrick some more and Patrick tried his hardest to hold his gaze. "You look the type to make mistakes. The same he did."

"Everyone makes mistakes." Patrick blinked the image of Pete away, of the shit that went down in Florida. "But I didn't come here to talk about myself. I'm here to see you. To see how settled you are."

"Better for seeing you. Have you been on vacation? You look red."

"I was away for a while, but if you keep deferring to me then I don't see the point in staying."

"Please," Larkson begged. Patrick sat back in his chair, still uncomfortable. "Please give me this. Let me pretend that you're him, that he wasn't taken from me."

"I can't do that," Patrick insisted. He sat stronger, legs pressed together, one hand over the phone and the other over his stomach. "I just wanted to make sure that you're doing okay and now that I see you are, I think I'll leave."

"It's your face I'll be picturing tonight," Brian hissed, suddenly mad that Patrick was ending things. "When I hear the pathetic whines from God knows what cell, it'll be your pretty face I'll be thinking of. Can you live with that, bitch?"

Patrick was accustomed to nasty insults from custodians, but not Larkson, who even at his creepiest, had been mostly polite to Patrick. His anger had festered, but Patrick had had enough and he wasn't going to listen to the nasty threats or insults any longer.

"I really hope you come to terms with what you did and how hurting those boys brought nothing peaceful into your life." Patrick held off on retorting back anything worse than that. He tried to keep anything nasty to himself. "I won't be coming here again, now." Patrick got up and left, ignoring the things that Larkson was shouting at his back. He let them wash over him, fighting back the urge to scream something in response.

Patrick sat in his car afterward, texting Pete with shaking hands, asking if they could meet. Pete told him he was welcome to come over to Joe’s house, so Patrick made his way over there, fighting off the uneasiness trying to desperately crawl into his veins. It took over an hour to get to Joe's house, but when he did, Marie opened the door to him, smiling warmly. She guided him outside, to where Pete was sitting on a bench, smoking with his legs bouncing up and down.

"Oh, hey," Pete said softly, fingers sliding to his cheek after Patrick left a surprise peck against his skin.

"Hey." Patrick smiled back at him, then down at the cigarette in his hand. "I didn't realize you smoked.

"I don't normally," Pete laughed and then flicked ash to the ground. "Ouch. That was painful. Let's just pretend this is a normal habit for me. What's up? You sounded freaked in your text."

"I went to see Larkson like I said, but he freaked me out. I think if I planned on seeing him at all it should've been earlier, when he hadn't had much time to think on what he did."

Pete suddenly frowned. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure?" Patrick bit his lip and folded his hands over his face for a second. "I don't know, man. He started talking really violently about me. I wasn't expecting it, I guess."

Pete's jaw tensed as he stubbed his cigarette out. "Did he threaten you?"

"Threaten to think of me tonight when he hears...stuff happening. God, it's nothing, but I don't know, it freaked me the fuck out. I just really wanted to talk with someone that might understand. Is it stupid that I didn't think it'd get to me?"

"A little, yeah," Pete admitted, but then he winked. "No, I think maybe you were just a little naïve. He's had time to reflect on getting locked up, it's probably all that's going around his head, plus we both know there was a sexual element to it. Then he sees your face, all blond and blue eyed like his kid and he probably just snapped. Don't let it get to you."

"It's hard not to let it when he's saying shit like that. I just wish he hadn't told me what he's going to think about tonight...there's no stopping that." Patrick shuddered, feeling sick.

"He's probably not the first inmate to entertain dark thoughts about you, Patrick, he's just the first to voice them." Pete slipped his fingers around Patrick's wrist. "I had one dude tell me he was gonna think about gutting me every night as he jerked off. Gross, but, you have to let it go. This will hardly be the first thing that someone's ever said that's off-putting."

"I think I gave him too much Patrick. I dunno, normally I can separate Patrick the Profiler and Patrick the little dude from Glenview. I think it got a bit blurry in my head." Patrick tapped the side of his head, rolling his eyes even as his hands still shook a little.

"You want a hug? You look like you need one," Pete asked, arms lifting up. Patrick fell against him, putting an arm around Pete's waist and resting his head in the crook of his neck, mindful of his healing shoulder. Pete's arms snapped down over him, hugging him tight. "Just think, if you ever end up at a Statesville, Larkson will have your back. You'd have to be his bitch, but he'd go easy on you."

"True." Patrick laughed, even if the thought horrified him. "I'd get some form of protection."

"Exactly." Pete rested his chin on top of Patrick's head. " I have to say, you look great in my jacket. I'm glad you still wear it."

"Thanks." Patrick started to pull away, but Pete held him tight enough that he obviously wasn't ready to give the hug up yet. "It's too long in the sleeves for me, but I have that problem with everything."

Pete laughed and Patrick felt the warm rumble against his cheek. "I'm sorry, but that's really cute." Patrick shifted his own head up, until he was looking up as Pete stared down. It was inevitable, but Patrick waited on Pete's move; let him lean down and kiss Patrick's lips. Patrick lifted a hand, so that he was touching Pete's neck, keeping him down.

Patrick lifted his head when the angle started to hurt, but Pete's arm stayed across his shoulders as Patrick grasped at his cheek, thumb rubbing stubble. He was finally letting go of the uneasiness with Larkson as Pete's tongue slid into his mouth. Patrick pulled away when he felt Pete's other hand slide to his stomach, beneath his t-shirt. He pecked Pete's lips before squirming backward.

"That was nice," Patrick said, a little breathless. Pete looked hesitant though, like a deer trapped in headlights. Patrick just held his face in his hands and kissed him again before backing off. "I like kissing you, Pete."

"Yeah, you're good too," Pete said, when he figured Patrick wasn't going to flee. "Did it get too much at the end?"

Patrick nodded. "I'm sort of in a weird spot. I don't know what happened, but I had a few bad one night stands in Florida and now I can't... I can't do sex right now." Pete's face went from disappointment to curious in a matter of seconds.

"Did someone hurt you when you were there?"

"No!" Patrick shook his head so hard it actually hurt. "There were times when I wanted them to, but I stayed safe."

"Jesus Christ." Pete took a loud breath. "I swear I worry about you like I do my kids. You're always getting yourself into trouble."

"You sound like Kevin," Patrick joked, but then remembered that Pete's run in with his brother hadn't been good. "I starting having some setbacks… feeling numb and trying to rectify it, but I stopped all that and focused on the those godawful books instead. Since then I've really had trouble with the idea of sex. I think I just need time, because I sure as fuck wasn't ready when we slept together and I don't think I'm ready now."

"That's okay," Pete nodded. "I've got the whole divorce thing hanging over me too, so I should probably be into taking it slow." Pete's knee started to jerks up and down in a nervous tick. "But I mean, you do want this though, right? For us to be a thing?"

"If we take it slow," Patrick nodded, even though he was terrified. "Like. Vicky says you call it 'seeing each other' if you date casually. Maybe we should see each other."

Pete laughed." You are so fucking clueless it's adorable." When Patrick frowned in confusion, Pete rubbed his thumb over Patrick's bottom lip gently. "We'll date, okay? We'll call it dating."

"Dating does sound less awkward," Patrick admitted through a grimace. "I've never really dated before though. I got serious with Andy quickly."

"It's okay, I'll guide you through it." They stayed outside a little while longer, talking shit. Pete was trying to find more information out about Patrick's recent bouts with sex, but Patrick wasn't budging; the less he knew the better. It was cute and they held hands. Patrick was maybe five minutes away from telling Pete it was a bad idea; too soon, but then Pete would just smile at him and he was going through shit too, so Patrick kept his anxious little thoughts to himself for once.

Then Joe came home, bustling through the door to the delighted squeals of his daughter. When he headed outside, probably on the informed word of Marie, he smiled cautiously at Patrick and then stared with raised eyebrows at Pete.

"Patrick, buddy. You had a good time in Florida?" Joe asked, his eyes falling briefly to where Pete's arm was hanging over the back of the bench; Patrick leaning into him slightly. Patrick shifted away, rocking forward until his hands rested between his knees.

"Yeah, it was good to get away, but uh. I should go. I don't wanna take up anymore of Pete's time." He stood to leave, watching Pete hop up from beside him. Patrick stood awkwardly, waiting on Pete to say something, but when he didn't, Patrick just waved them both off, saying goodbye to Marie on his way out.

 

Patrick spent the next few days with Penny and Gizmo, as Vicky started to pack her shit up into boxes. He was overwhelmingly excited about her moving to the apartment below him, but also a little jealous, when he realized that she had far more living space than him for the same rent.

Vicky had weaseled her way back to her old bar for work and Gabe was applying at various places, so it would be different soon, they wouldn't have this time to hang out together anymore. Nerves were starting to brew in his stomach about going back to work and he wasn't sure why. It was more than passing embarrassment over his final interview with Larkson.

"Are you worried that people know about Andy?" Vicky questioned on her return from the bar. She had been shifting boxes to her new apartment, but had somehow ended up at his place, rooting through his old case files he'd dumped in the corner when he brought them back from Wisconsin.

"I doubt they know. Only Pete was aware and I don't see him gossiping." Patrick watched her face screw up in disgust at what she was reading, tossing the folder onto the table.

"You need to get that all on a computer, not laying about for me to read. Maybe you're scared people will work out you and Pete hooked up, then," she offered, but Patrick sent a withering look her way. No one would know about that, and if did, they certainly wouldn't care.

"I'm not great at working with people sometimes. People say I'm weird, Pete was good with it, but most people aren't Pete." Patrick was getting bored with the conversation, didn't want to talk about himself any longer. He could've sworn that half his life revolved around talking about his thoughts and feelings and he wasn't even in therapy at this point. "Hey, we should hit the hardware store, get some paint to decorate."

Vicky didn't look so sure. "What, now?"

"Yeah. Let's do something other than talk about my life or the dogs." Patrick stood up with purpose, so much so that he almost felt dizzy. "I need something to do other than read trash."

As it was Vicky's apartment, she got to choose the color. Patrick thought a dark red would look pretty cool; she seemed to be into high Gothic art, but she went for a royal blue instead. Patrick figured it'd make the place feel permanently like night time, but that seemed to be Vicky's thing. Patrick had to pay for the paint, though. Vicky told him as much.

The color looked even darker when they were mixing it later that night. Patrick stared down at the inky pools of navy as Vicky stirred the paint. The only reason he didn't voice his uncertainty on the color was because his phone started ringing.

"Technically we're dating and we haven't even been on a date," Pete said, before Patrick could even say hello. "So I'm thinking tonight we could go on a date."

"I don't know, " Patrick hesitated. "I'm helping Vicky decorate her new place. She's moving into an apartment on the floor below mine."

"That's kinda creepy and quick," Pete said abruptly. "Please tell me she isn't letting you loose with a paintbrush. Do you know how much work I had to put in to fix your place?"

"I'm perfectly fine with a paintbrush. I don't like the color she picked, it's too dark." Patrick hopped out of the way when Vicky whacked him with a paintbrush.

"Probably better than the grim color you used on your walls, " Pete said. "So are you saying you want me to come help out? Is Vicky really letting you loose with a brush?"

"You can come, I guess," Patrick said, then remembered his manners. "No, you should come and help. Bring some alcohol."

Pete laughed. "Alright, alright. I'll be over soon."

"Did you just invite Pete to my house? " Vicky asked, crouching to pour the paint into the tray. Patrick stared at the thick blue paint, unsure of how to answer.

"He asked me on a date and I didn't know how to answer." He blew his bangs out of his face. "I actually wanted a night to not think or discuss my weird fucking life, but I guess it's too late for that."

"I guess it gives me a chance to check him out properly now he's no longer married," Vicky said, still a little tightly.

"Still married. But yeah. You really don't have to worry."

"All I know about him is he works his way into grieving beds and gets into bar fights. Not exactly winning me over." She stood up, and lost the confident look on her face. "Still, I probably know him better than I know Gabe, and I've moved in with him."

"Gabe's a good guy; I'm a profiler, you can trust my opinion." Patrick winked at Vicky, rubbing her shoulder gently. He knew Gabe was solid the moment he helped him out back in Florida. "And Pete's a good guy too, he just makes bad decisions."

"Well, I just want to make sure you're not a bad decision." Patrick nodded as Vicky grew in confidence again. It was so strange caring for a woman he hadn't known three months back. Now, she was his best friend and he couldn't imagine life without her; he didn't know much about her past, about how or where she grew up. It was a different situation for Patrick.

Pete turned up within the hour with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of rose in the other. Vicky snatched the wine from his hand before waving him in. Patrick was handed the flowers and he stared down at them; at the cherry pinks and yellows.

"The flowers were for Vicky, but I guess I got it the wrong way around? " Pete smiled nervously, looking sheepish and uncomfortable at the situation.

"Flowers are fine for me. I'll probably kill them, but they'll look nice for a day or so. " He stared down at them some more, listening to Vicky pulling glasses from a box in the corner. "I'm just gonna go upstairs and put them in water, but uh, I'll be right back."

Patrick took his time, not forgetting the terrified look on Pete's face at the abandonment. Patrick didn't have a vase to spare, but he filled a Pyrex jug with water and trimmed the stems down until they fit better.

When he headed downstairs, Pete was on a ladder, taping the ceiling up as Vicky drank wine from a bright green beaker.

"You guys are awful," Pete was muttering beneath his breath. Patrick was too busy staring at the patch of toned stomach he could see beneath Pete's shirt to pay him any attention. "Always tape up the top and bottom or you'll end up in the mess Patrick was before."

"I was drunk when I redecorated," Patrick proclaimed, grabbing a beaker from Vicky. "This color is way too dark for in here."

"No, it's nice," Pete said, ripping the tape with his teeth before hopping down. "You can't talk."

Patrick kept his mouth shut, taking another sip of his wine. It wasn't necessarily fun, because there was tension between Vicky and Pete, who had only met once before, when they were all in Patrick's bed. He was hoping it would get better.

"Where's Gabe?" Patrick asked after a while. He'd been designated painter of the lower outline, making sure not to catch the baseboard with his navy-dunked paintbrush. His knees hurt from crouching, but he knew if he complained _someone_ would make a filthy joke that he didn't fancy being the butt of.

"Meeting some friends," Vicky said, bare feet tilted up as she rocked onto her toes, swiping the roller to the highest point. "I don't know how he's even made friends yet, but he has. I guess he's just one of those people."

"So one of you came back with a boyfriend and the other with a romantic novel obsession," Pete joked, winking down at Patrick from the step ladder. "That's pretty funny."

"How's your divorce, Pete?" Vicky responded coolly, and Pete's smile slipped from his face.

"Expensive," he said back. "It'll be worth it, I'm sure. No one was happy in that marriage." Patrick felt Pete's eyes on him, but he didn't want to look, so he focused on finishing his patch of dark blue.

It took a few hours, but they managed to finish the main room. Patrick still thought it was way too dark, but the other two liked it so he stopped his complaining. He was actually pretty happy he was going to have his friend so close to him. He didn't feel bad about all the friends he used to have that he left behind, because he couldn't think of anyone that had ever treated him as good as Vicky.

"Do you want to come upstairs for a bit?" Patrick asked Pete when Vicky kicked them out to shower. He was hoping Pete wouldn't mistake it for anything more; Patrick had told him they wouldn't be having sex anytime soon.

"So Vicky is fucking scary and she hates my ass," Pete said when they made it up to Patrick's place. There was a soft bundle of dogs at Patrick's feet and he picked them both up, letting them yap and lick at his face. "Wow, that's gross."

"I've become a real dog-person recently." Patrick said, letting the dogs down when they started to squirm. "We bonded big time in Florida and I feel like they helped."

"It takes all sorts," Pete laughed as Patrick shrugged, it was pretty silly, but less embarrassing than the books he read when he was upset. "But, uh, thanks for inviting me tonight. I had fun."

"Even with Vicky?" Patrick eyed Pete curiously, watching him pick dried paint from his elbow.

"She's just looking out for you. She only knows the bad stuff about me," Pete shrugged awkwardly, not meeting Patrick's eyes. "I don't know what you see in me, Patrick. I've been awful recently."

"Yeah, but you never gave up on me when all I did was cry and talk about Andy. I puked right after sex, I don't think anyone else would've stayed." Patrick grimaced as he sat on his couch beside Pete. It was far from his smoothest moment. Nothing that happened that night was good except maybe getting closer to Pete.

"I don't know... " Pete tailed off, shoulders hunched up as he stared at the ground. "When do you go back to work? "

"Next Monday. I'm gonna go up to my brother's at the weekend, make sure his blood pressure is in check, but then I guess I'll be good to start again."

"Don't let anyone say shit about you," Pete said suddenly. It had Patrick frowning in confusion.

"Why would they say shit?"

"I don't know... Just in case it was people saying shit that was worrying you." Pete shrugged and ran a hand against his chin.

"You should worry about what people say about you... Getting into bar fights, getting stabbed. You only just started getting praise." Patrick gave Pete a look of disapproval, but got a flipped finger in response.

"It's not exactly been a fun time for me... It just... Got too much, that's all." Pete raised a hand, eyes on Patrick's mouth before looking away. "I'm not very good at keeping a good home/work balance and I let it spill over into work and then I was just trying to unwind and this fucking prick comes up to me and we got into it."

"And then you got stabbed in the shoulder," Patrick finished the sentence for him. "Do you wanna stay over? Like before?" Patrick asked and then, "because I'd like you to. Now you're separated I feel better about doing so and I think you need the company." It broke the awkward mood and Pete smiled up at him, holding his hand out for Patrick to yank him up.

When they were in bed, Patrick skirted his fingers against the edge of Pete's ribs, sliding up to his shoulder where his wound was healing nicely. "You're an idiot for getting stabbed."

"Totally. I still don't think I deserved it, but I guess some would say it's retribution." Pete grimaced, but Patrick wriggled closer until their legs interweaved and his forehead butted against Pete's chin.

"You didn't deserve it," Patrick insisted, sighing heavily, hands sliding to Pete's back. He didn't realize how tired he was until he was resting against Pete and his eyes started to droop. It felt like the past few months hadn't existed, like he was back to the lost guy he was before he left for Florida. There was more peace now though and his sleep went undisturbed.

Patrick woke up to the sound of movement. He was in the middle of the bed, the patch under the palm of his hand still warm. When he opened his blurry eyes, he could see Pete pulling on his shirt and leaving the room. Patrick thought briefly about calling out, but he wasn't that pathetic. He just let it happen.

Two hours later, Gabe was in Patrick's apartment, too loud and too tall for Patrick to deal with. He had a job interview and he needed Patrick to drive him to it. There was a brief mention of Patrick decorating his apartment last night, but then he was back to bugging Patrick again.

"You drive," Patrick snapped back, coffee burning the back of his throat as he tried to glare at Gabe's cheery face. "Why do I have to drive? Everyone thinks I'm terrible."

"Because I get jittery and speedy when I'm nervous and I could do with not getting pulled over, right? I'm sure you won't be as bad as that,"Gabe winked, just enough that Patrick felt vaguely uneasy about what he was suggesting.

"... Right. Okay, when is it?" Patrick put his mug down and rubbed at his face. He couldn't blame lack of sleep on his bad mood because he'd slept perfect until Pete left at dawn.

"Only like thirty minutes away... I know I know! I got it at short notice!" Gabe stepped back when he thought Patrick might swing at him. Patrick eventually shrugged though and slowly went to find his shoes and keys. They were in the car ten minutes later, Patrick semi presentable with Gabe looking dapper and smelling pretty decent beside him. He looked nervous, like something was actually getting to him for once.

"So, like, when someone leaves at five in the morning, it means they don't wanna see you again, right?" Patrick asked carefully. From past experience, Gabe hadn't pried into Patrick's life too much, he didn't want to go into the details and get laughed at.

"Pretty much. We've all done it," Gabe shrugged and then looked at Patrick as they stopped in traffic. "Did it just happen you you?"

Patrick nodded. "We didn't even have sex... I don't know. I get nightmares, maybe it freaked him out." Pete had seen him have them before though, and as embarrassing as the sex dreams were, Pete was desperate enough for Patrick that he probably wouldn't up and leave over them.

"You could just call him," Gabe said, but when Patrick gave him a look, his tall body shrunk in regret. Either Patrick's pissy looks were getting more effective with age, or Gabe was a big softie.

"That's a bitter look, Stump. You say you didn't fuck, but did you let him put his hand in the honey pot? Because you can't expect a dude to wait around without giving him a taste of the sugar."

"Jesus Christ. Don't fucking talk the rest of the ride. " Patrick burned up, inside and out. That was almost as bad as the shit in his books.

Patrick waited in the car as Gabe headed up his interview. He emailed Kevin and told him he was coming up for the weekend. He'd been getting bugging emails from his family, and after the weirdness of Pete that morning, he just wanted to get away from his life for a few days. It meant spending time with his brother and dealing with whatever happened between him and Pete when Patrick was in Florida, but it was better than moping around.

Gabe was gone less than a hour and it was with a high spring in his step that he returned to the car, leaning over to kiss Patrick's cheek. "Nailed it. They offered me it then and there."

"Congrats," Patrick said, wiping his face off with the back or his hand as he drove them back to the apartment complex. Patrick had nothing from Pete all day and he was a little reticent to act desperate and ask in a beg about it. Pete had his reasons for leaving and it wasn't like they were even together. They were _dating_.

Patrick spent the night alone, making vegan brownies and eating them in front of the TV. He started to get upset thinking about how often he made them for Andy, and the rest of the night his stomach felt like rocks; his heart beating too fast. Grief was exhausting his body. He started another book, but it wasn't gripping him like the others had and he ended up tossing it aside and laying awake in his bed, Penny tucked up beside him.

Patrick left his apartment early the next morning, texting Vicky so that she knew he wasn't around for the next few days. He hovered over Pete's name in his phone, but didn't type anything out. He didn't know what to say.

Patrick found it slightly more tolerable at his brother's house now than the weeks after Andy's death. He was eating better and the self loathing has lessened somewhat. Patrick left his new books at home, because that wasn't something he wanted to explain to Kevin, but he sat in his living room, teasing Penny with a plate of cheese as he ignored his brother watching him from the doorway.

"You had a good time in Florida, then?" Kevin asked eventually, sitting down, work tie loosened but not fully pulled from his neck.

"It was different. I feel like I enjoyed it more now that I'm back than I did at the time. But I think.... I don't know. I've made a good friend in Vicky and she met someone down there and he's a good guy." Patrick left out how weird Gabe was because there'd been a few moments of lucidness where he hadn't seemed quite as wacky.

"What about the dude I found in your apartment? Jesus, I know you've had a hard time recently, but you can't go around letting people live in your house for free. Don't think I don't know what you're like."

"That's rude. Don't act like you know anything about my life." Patrick crossed his arms, ignoring the way Penny pawed at his locked fist, trying to get to the block of cheese. Really, he didn't want to explain all the unprotected ways he was fooling around with Pete at that point. No one would want to explain that to their family. "And Pete isn't anything like what you think. He helped me a lot, he helped me get through those few months after Andy."

"Andy is the only guy I've ever liked you with." That was a lie; Kevin didn't like him at first, only warming up to him when they'd been together a year. Patrick didn't call him out on it though.

"Please, he's the only boyfriend I ever had. " Patrick gave Kevin a look when he tried to argue. "Anything that happened prior to him was a bad move and we don't talk about it for a reason."

"Too fucking right." Kevin's body lost the tightness as he jabbed an elbow into Patrick's side. Things didn't feel right, but they didn't feel as wrong as before.

There was nothing to do at his brother's house, Patrick had forgotten. If he had kids then maybe Patrick could've played with them, but it was just Patrick and Penny, trying to make small talk against his brother and sister in law.

That night, Pete phoned him. "I'm sorry dude. For bailing on you. I just... I had a meeting with my attorney that day and being with you just freaked me out."

"Oh okay," Patrick answered, fingers pressing the phone to his ear as he sat in his brother's guest bedroom. "I guess it would be easier for you to be with someone with less baggage right after a divorce."

"That's not what I'm saying," Pete insisted. "But like. It's just hard being away from my kids."

"Right, of course," Patrick said back, not really buying it. "So why are you phoning?"

"My god, I'm apologizing, Patrick. Don't be such a bitch," Pete snapped and then sighed. "I just wanted to let you know why I left and that I'm sorry and that I don't want anything to change even if I flake out on you."

"I'm usually the flaky one," Patrick laughed and it finally broke the mood across the phone line. "I'll be back Sunday afternoon, maybe we can hang out then."

"On a date?" Pete's voice rang out with hope and Patrick couldn't deny him that, so he agreed softly.

The weekend went fine until Kevin took him to their mother's house where he had to compose himself as she went through all the best memories she had of him and Andy together. He excused himself after the first two hours, to cry it out in her bathroom alone. He sat on her fluffy pink toilet seat as the tears flooded down his cheeks; until her air freshener puffed out lavender bursts against his ear every fifteen minutes. When he reentered the kitchen, Kevin was handing him a strong cup of coffee and looking everywhere but at Patrick's puffy cheeks.

"Mom's promised to shut up," he explained, as Patrick took a seat opposite. "Last time I heard you cry like that you were five and we left your Donatello toy in the cabin on the way back from vacation. Dad turned the car around three hours into the drive just to calm you down."

"Sorry," Patrick said, laughing as he curled his fingers around his mug. The coffee burned the tips of his fingers, but he liked that. "I haven't cried like that in about two weeks."

"I can't imagine it."

"No one can, not unless they go through it, but I don't want to talk about it. It's private shit." Patrick put his palms on the table, pressing them down into the cheap wood. When he saw Kevin nod his head slowly he sunk back down into his chair, drinking his coffee in awkward silence.

_You've made things so awkward for me, Andy, so fuck you for that. Mom talked for hours about you, how much she liked you when you first met (she didn't; too many tattoos) and how you spoke to her so much about how you cared for me (you were so shy you barely spoke. Not like I blame you, you know how she can be). I'm feeling weird about Pete. I'm sorry I keep bringing him up. Hypothetically, if you were even able to read this, which you're not, I know it's way too inappropriate to talk about someone I'm sort of seeing when you were supposed to be the love of my life. But I'm not sure. Maybe this is what it feels like when you know someone's cheating on you. It only happened to me once and it wasn't like I was even with that guy back then, though I suppose I'm not even with Pete. Fuck. Why is my life like this? Is this why I should get back to work so I'm not thinking about this? I feel like I'm on one of those reality shows where all anyone cares about is their own shitty love life and how it affects them. I'm going to have nightmares about losing you tonight, I know I am. I always do when I think too hard about our life. So fuck you, fuck you for making my mom grieve for you like that._

"I feel terrible, I wrote another note to Andy, but I think I was mean," Patrick said when he was back home. He was Vicky's new place. She was at work and Gabe wasn't, so Patrick was talking to him about it. "It's not his fault he's dead."

"It's the dickhead that knocked him over, right?" Gabe said, looking over with dark eyes. Patrick hadn't really told him too much, and even Vicky wasn't that clued into what happened; only the sparse details Patrick could bare to part with.

"The guy that hit Andy was over the limit, wasn't even off probation from his last incident. It would've been me but Andy saw and pushed me away..." Patrick shook his hands away when he felt the pressure sinking over him. He took steady breaths, patting Gabe's hand when it landed on his knee. "I don't really think about the guy that did it when all I see is Andy laying there."

Gabe nodded his head, but he was clearly uncomfortable so Patrick changed the subject. "How's work? Have you started yet?"

"It's golden. I've done a lot of different trades in my time, but I really think I was called to do this."

"Isn't it just casino work?" Patrick's fairly certain it was some cheesy casino parking lot he'd driven Gabe to.

"There's a knack, Pat. I have it. Plus they want me to run the weekly bingo event, the jacket is pretty fucking snazzy. Vicky wants me to wear it in the bedroom." He leaned over to Patrick, who just patted Gabe's head. Some things were best left to the imagination.

"Alright, that's good, I guess. I'm going out with Pete tonight, so tell Vicky I'm not answering her texts for a reason." Patrick stood up to leave, watching Gabe immediately spread his long body over the space Patrick vacated.

Pete took Patrick ice skating at a rink on the outskirts of their town. Andy played ice hockey during their early years as a couple and Patrick watched him play a few times, but he was never really a sports guy and he'd hardly stepped on the rink since he hit double digits.

"I'm a little brother, I always got beat up by the bigger kids at my brother's skating parties," Patrick said to Pete as they stepped out onto the rink. Patrick held tight to the side, his feet slipping the moment he tried to push forward. "How's your stab wound?"

"You're in a good mood," Pete deadpanned, but he was able to stand up without wobbling knees. Patrick wanted to push him the fuck over. "Nicely healed up, thanks for asking. Come on, just step away from the side. Come to me."

"I'm going to fall," Patrick hesitated, and then watched a ten year old skate past happily. He pushed himself away from the rink edge and went flying toward Pete, hands flapping as his stomach dropped at the fear of falling.

"Gotcha!" Pete said, holding Patrick's waist as he bumped into him. Patrick dug his fingers into Pete's arms, body tense. Patrick's never been any good at physical activity, except maybe sex. Not even that in recent months.

"Why do you always insist on taking me places that have me embarrassing myself?"

"Because you look cute when you're embarrassed?" Pete suggested and then shook his head. "Nah. You're always cute. I'm just trying to think of fun things to do together that won't make you uncomfortable. But seriously, are we just gonna clutch each other for the night, or are you gonna let me help you out?"

"Fine," Patrick said, when he saw more ten year old's skating past. He could do this... Probably. "Don't let me fall on my ass."

"Better to fall on your ass than your face," Pete said, but then he was taking a hand from Patrick's waist and trying to guide him into moving forward.

Patrick didn't fall on his ass, though he almost tumbled a few times and it was only his strong grip onto Pete that kept him up. He managed to go a few steps on his own, but then his knees would wobble and his hands would fly out to Pete again. Pete just laughed, guiding them smoothly across the rink.

"How come you're so good at this?" Patrick said, with sore ankles afterward. He'd bought them both a hot chocolate from the cafeteria next door and was letting the steam warm his face and hands. Pete was sitting close to him, so that their thighs and shoulders were touching.

"My oldest likes to come. Plus we had this old pond that would freeze over at my grandparents house when we were kids, if it was thick enough they'd let us skate on it," Pete explained and then smirked at Patrick over his mug. "You liked it right? I thought it was something fun to do."

"It was different," Patrick laughed, "but I wanna choose where we go next time or you're gonna have me jumping from a freaking zip-wire and I don't think my nerves could handle that."

"I'm glad I didn't blow it enough for you to bail on me for good," Pete hesitated as he puts his mug down, but then was smiling over his shoulder at Patrick again. He had the kind of smile that made Patrick melt a little bit. He was such a sucker. "You excited for work tomorrow?"

"Oh fuck, don't remind me." Patrick's nerves had suddenly come back with a huge stomach flipping twist, hitting his chest on the way out. "My grief isn't bad enough to hide my nerves anymore. I always used to get like this with every new case, but it feels worse."

"Anything in particular?"

"Not really," Patrick shrugged, folding his fingers around his drink. "I thought maybe in case people made comments about how I behaved in the interview with Larkson, but I really don't think anyone cares."

"Not as much as me," Pete smirked, but Patrick shook his head and stared down at the table. "You'll be alright, you'll be fine. At least you haven't been suspended."

"How's that going?"

"Treating it like a vacation?" Pete tried, but when his voice remained thin and pitchy, he shook his head. "I'm trying to use it by cracking on with the divorce shit. We've worked out custody fine, but we wanna get it official so neither of us can bail on it. It's a lot of time and money. We're trying to be civil, but it's fucking hard."

"This is why marriage never appealed to me. An expensive slap in the face." It wasn't like they could have even legally married back when Andy was alive, but even a joined union had seemed unnecessary.

"Yup, and prenups were not a thing at all when we got hitched." Pete rubbed a hand over his face. "Fuck it. Patrick, this is supposed to be a date, don't have me talking this shit with you. That's what Joe's for."

"Alright, sorry." Patrick shrugged, he's glad they don't talk about it; that he didn't even know Pete's wife's name. He wanted to remain as ignorant as possible, just to keep out of it. "I'm just your pretty distraction, right?"

"Absolutely. " Pete's thumb joint rested against Patrick's jaw, his fingers curling down into Patrick's neck. Patrick leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Pete's mouth. Just enough so that Pete knew that Patrick had enjoyed himself, but not enough to persuade him that Patrick wanted to go back to Joe's with him.

Patrick got home just after eight, kissing Pete again quickly in the parking lot. He had a bath to try and sort out his sore ankles and drank whiskey from his Star Wars mug. He picked out a fresh book, another medical romance, even though the cowboy ones were his favorite. He got through it quickly, the affair between the anesthetist and the nurse resulting in an elopement shotgun style. Boring, but easy. Patrick was in bed by eleven, alarm set and Penny on the pillow beside him.

Patrick said fuck it when the nerves got the better of him and he ended up taking Penny with him to work. She was a service dog, he told himself; a grief counselor that he couldn't bear to be parted with. She just stared up at him with her tiny black eyes, tongue against his chin.

"Just like old times," Patrick whispered. There was no Pete right now, but Patrick got his security and ID and he stared at the godawful photo he'd had taken on the third floor. He looked all of twelve in it.

He wasn't sure what he expected when he walked into the Head of Department's office, but it wasn't to be told that he would be working on his own in a small office away from the team. He hadn't even expected the dirty looks from vaguely familiar faces in the office as he walked through the floor. He knew he wouldn't be working on live cases, but he didn't think he'd be shut away like a virus.

Joe found Patrick at lunch, smiling at first and then dropping it when he saw Patrick sitting there, scowling with Penny on his lap. Patrick knew by this point that he was a joke to the entire fucking station; knew that cops could gossip more than any other group he'd ever met.

"Why does everyone think that I ran off with Pete?" Patrick said, watching Joe take a slow halt into the seat. Patrick shouldn't be bringing other people into this pathetic drama, but it sounded like everyone had involved themselves anyway.

"Look, Patrick. One thing you gotta understand is that we're like a family, you know? The station looks after it's own and that doesn't just apply to the cops," Joe hesitated and then slapped a hand over his face. "I sounded majorly douchey then, fuck. Never-mind, all I'm saying is that Pete's wife is friends with other wives in this joint and she was bound to confide in them about shit."

"Yeah, but," Patrick started, hands desperately clutching at his dog in his lap. "Like, they both slept around, right? That's what you told me yourself."

"Yeah, but I mean, like, dude." Joe stared up at the ceiling, looking like maybe he was going to kill Pete later for making him do this. "Dude. They didn't get divorced over anyone else."

"I don't want him to divorce his wife for me. I have a dead boyfriend I'm trying to get over, I don't need some divorcee douchebag throwing his baggage – including two fucking kids – at me."

"Hey, dude. That's my friend."

"Yeah? And this is the first I knew about my involvement in the separation. I thought I was just like the wake-up call, perhaps. He never said a word to me about people knowing about us...about it being my fault." Patrick knew he was red, could feel the heat of his cheeks even without touching his fingertips to them. He was too old for this kind of shit.

"Look. Like, I don't wanna get all up in your shit, but maybe you should talk to Pete. You could come over for dinner, talk to him at my place?" Joe was trying to be nice, and he was a good guy with the kind of home life that Patrick's envious of, but the last thing he wanted to do was see Pete right now. "I didn't want to you guys getting involved again. He said he wouldn't, so I was surprised to see you at my place, but you obviously are doing _something_ , so just talk it out together. "

"I think I might get violent if I have to see his stupid fucking face so please don't try and make peace between us right now."

"Right, of course." Joe snapped a hand on Patrick's shoulder, his other hand gentler as it ruffled Penny's fur. "And don't listen to anyone talking shit here, they'll move onto someone new tomorrow." He stood up and left. Patrick watched him, feeling even worse.

Patrick made it through the rest of the day. Ignoring the looks he got; the dirty comments that got passed his way when he left his office to search for something. He hadn't really got anywhere on the cases he'd started to browse, picking out any repetitions in the murders, putting down his own thoughts onto a legal pad. When the clock turned five, Patrick cleaned the room up, locked the files in the drawer and shut the lights off. He managed to escape the view of his boss, Penny in his arms. He couldn't bare to sit through a lecture about sleeping with colleagues, though considering his solitary confinement, he clearly knew separating Patrick from the team would keep some kind of peace.

Vicky and Gabe were in the station parking lot when he left, stupid party hats snapped over their heads. As Patrick approached, Gabe pulled on the strings of a popper in Patrick's face, so that he was blinking colored strands of paper away.

"What's this?" Patrick asked, wincing when Vicky blew on the curled paper horn, the end snapping him in the cheek. Penny flinched in his arms and when he looked over, he saw people from the station giving him weird looks.

"Post-work celebrations! We knew you didn't want to go back today, so we thought we'd pick you up to celebrate getting through your first day!" Vicky said, not lowering her voice, even as a few of Patrick's colleagues stared in their direction.

"We'll drop Penny home first, she can't come everywhere," Gabe added, with one final blow, throwing a paper crown at Patrick's head.

"This is really sweet," Patrick said, and then closed his mouth before he got overemotional again. He followed them both back to the car, trying to let his friends’ sweetness overtake the shitty feeling Pete's lies had left him with. They dropped Penny off at Vicky's apartment, letting her hang out with Gizmo as they grabbed something to eat. Patrick tried to fake enthusiasm at first, talked about the case he was on before he frowned at Vicky. Gabe just gave him a look.

"Was it that bad?" She asked. "Do people know what happened with Pete? I kinda figured as much."

"They know what they think happened. I think there's this whole story that's been made up about how I walked into the station batting my fucking lashes, bending over until he couldn't say no. Like really? Have they met me?" Patrick bit into his spring roll, scratching beneath the pink paper crown on his head.

"You did bend over, but you were kinda mean about it," Vicky laughed, not stopping even when Patrick glared at her. "What? Pete told you the break up wasn't about you though?"

"He said it was something they agreed needed to happen. I didn't think she knew about me or anything. I didn't think I was anything to know about. I wasn't the first guy he slept with outside of their marriage, I didn't really think I'd be the last," Patrick shrugged, feeling miserable down to his bones. He'd always tried to ignore the sneaking suspicion that his actions had fucked over Pete's marriage, but he didn't think it'd be all over work. "I didn't sleep with him to get the job. I've worked bigger cases in bigger departments. I don't need to sleep with the boss to get anywhere, but that's what they're saying."

"I'm sure it'll blow over," Gabe said, a little more diplomatic than Vicky.

"This is why I was freelance for so long. I just work with a team long enough to solve a case and then I fuck off somewhere else, you don't have to deal with friends or anything messy like this." 

"You're really not good with people, are you?" Vicky laughed, fiddling with her chopsticks as she looked over at Patrick. "Anyway, let's talk about something else. Let's talk about something new. Gabe, what do you want to talk about?"

"I want to know… " Gabe started to snigger behind his hand. Patrick stared at him, taking a sip of his water, wondering where the fuck this was going. "I want a lesson in virginity. Who took yours, how old were ya and do you regret it?"

"Ooh. Good question," Vicky smirked back, giving him a quick kiss. "His name was Derek, he was gorgeous and he pretended I didn't exist the moment after it happened."

"Why?" Patrick asked suddenly curious. "You know, I've never met a nice Derek." They both turned to him, Vicky not looking too upset.

"High school dynamics. He was popular, I was a nerd, but I had the thing that no other girl had in the eleventh grade." She grabbed at her breasts and shrugged. "Naturally, I was heartbroken, but at least I got it over with early."

"That was incredibly shitty on his behalf, but you beat me by three years," Gabe admitted. "This face was something I had to grow into and it took me until I was twenty to do so."

"I was expecting you to be a lot younger," Vicky admitted and the smirked, "I bet you were terrible."

"Everyone's terrible on their first go," Patrick cut in. "But yeah, you at least seem cocky enough to lie about it."

"Don't need to lie, I'm not insecure enough to do so," Gabe winked, and that was true. He was perhaps the most secure person Patrick had ever met. "What about you, Patrick. Did you lose it to Andy or in college?"

"Neither. I was fifteen and he was my brother's friend. Kevin was away at college and his friend started coming over. I was an idiot, but all teenagers are so obviously I believed the bullshit about me being so special."

"I was not expecting that, Patsy!" Vicky laughed. "Did Kevin find out?"

"Yup. Came home from college and found us together. It's why he's always so protective, I guess. When you're young you don't see the dangers, but after working the job I do for a few years, you realize that if someone other than a teenager wants to fuck a teenager it's not because they're actually into them." As mad as Kevin had been at the time, Patrick had been so relieved that he hadn't told their parents.

"Gross." Vicky scrunched her face up. "Tell me more though."

"Nothing more to tell," Patrick laughed. "Fell in love, got over it, went to college and met someone else. The only person that didn't get over it was Kevin, but then, who would after seeing their baby brother in a situation like that?"

"You're full so many horrifying stories," Gabe said. "Let's get back to me being an ugly as fuck teenager."

 

Pete tried to phone Patrick that night, but he ignored it. He may have played into ignorance a little bit, but Pete had still lied to him about what went down in his divorce and that everyone in the fucking office would know about it. His concern about Patrick heading back to work was starting to make more sense. Instead he read through a few old cases notes that Vicky had left laying around. He could really do with putting them up somewhere, on a computer system, but he'd never been all that good with shit like that.

He went into work the next day without his dog and tried to put on a brave face. He'd never been that good at hiding his feelings, but he'd never worked with one team before and it was awkward. If a homewrecker was the type of person that even existed, Patrick was fairly certain he didn't fit the description, but he had it thrown at him on more than one occasion that day. It didn't hurt all that much, but it sucked. He sat in his office, on his own, reading through file after file. Frustration was starting to build in his chest about how inept this precinct was, but he didn't really know what to do with the information he had, and he didn't have anyone to talk it through with.

When he got home that evening, Pete was sitting on his doorstep. Patrick stared down at him, uncertain how to start the conversation. He left the door open as he dropped his keys on the side.

"I did try to keep your name out of it. I did't think it'd spread around the office," Pete said, "I mean, like, I wasn't lying when I said it was an amicable break up, but I thought she'd go for irreconcilable differences. I wasn't expecting to be served with papers on the grounds of adultery."

"Well, it's what you are," Patrick said, pulling open his refrigerator for something to do. There was the rest of the brownie he'd made a few nights before, but little else. Patrick shut it, and turned to stare at Pete's stupid puppy-dog expression. "I try really fucking hard to keep my personal life out of the workplace so I don't appreciate getting dragged into the shitstorm brewing between you and your wife. It's not my fault you can't fucking keep it in your pants."

"You didn't help the situation," Pete said, flapping his arms in the air. "You look at me with those sad little eyes and those tight fucking jeans and you're crying all over me, wanting me to hold you in bed and then saying you can't do anything more than hold hands. Like, really, Patrick?"

"All I said was I didn't want to have sex right now, don't make it about more than that," Patrick said, trying to keep his cool.

"Yeah, but you act like it. Look, believe it or not, Patrick, I was trying to protect you from it. I didn't want you thinking you had a part in this because everyone involved knows you didn't. You just sort of finalized things and that's pretty much made you a scapegoat and I'm sorry for that, but I'm gonna be real; every time I ask you out you make it seem like a chore so I'm kinda wondering why you're even pissed."

"I'm pissed because no one will talk to me at work," Patrick said, "I'm the fucking new kid at school that everyone hates and it blows. I was pissed because you lied, acting like protecting me is something I need, but now I'm angrier because you act like I'm withholding sex because I don't like you, like I'm doing it to be fucking tease."

"Do you like me?"

"You're a fucking detective, work it out for yourself." Patrick felt the room spinning a little, like he always did when he got worked up. He took a few deep breaths, taking his glasses off to rub at his eyes. "I like you, I'm sorry if I don't show it, but I'm not ready for a full-on relationship, especially not with someone that's working through a divorce _and_ a work suspension for getting fucking stabbed in a bar fight. Like, cut me some god-damn slack, I can barely breathe most of the time, I'm giving you all that I can."

"Now you're making me feel like a real asshole," Pete said, suddenly softer. There was no heat in his words and he sounded deflated more than anything. Patrick pushed his glasses back onto his face.

"I'm trying to take it a day at a time, Pete. In Florida there were times I just wanted to be dead. I thought about walking into the ocean and not looking back just because of this pressure inside. Other times I'd sit at a bar hoping someone would fucking roofie me just so I'd have a different kind of pain to go through. I miss Andy more and more every day, but when you're around I feel better. I don't get the numbness, I don't get that horrible pressure in my chest. I can’t give you a whole lot of answers and I can't give you reassurance all the fucking time because I'm literally just about breathing normally for the most part."

Pete was pale by the time Patrick finished talking. Patrick hadn't planned on ever telling anyone how he felt, or the shameful thoughts he'd had, but he'd spilled it all to Pete just like that. Patrick crossed his arms over his stomach, resting his back against his refrigerator and waited on Pete to finally say something.

"I didn't realize things had gotten that dark for you," he said eventually. "I know from personal experience that you can't let those demons win out or you'll lose everything."

"You do help. You really help and maybe it wasn't as bad as I'm making it sound. I'm not sure...either way, you have got to stop lying to me," Patrick said. "But I do really want this to continue."

"Me too." Pete rolled his neck and then approached Patrick, wrapping him up in a hug. "You know, it will all blow over at work in a few weeks. They’ll find something else to talk about."

"Focusing on their job would be better," Patrick said, thinking back to all the unsolved cases he’d been browsing through at work. He pressed his nose into the side of Pete’s neck, sinking into the hug. It felt good and comforting.

Pete spent the night and it went much like their other ones did. They were both a little quieter after the fight, but they watched TV for a bit before going to bed. Patrick stroked Pete’s hand as it wrapped over his chest that night. Every night that Pete was spooned up behind him was one where he slept well. Patrick wouldn’t ever deny that.

_Remember when I was like twenty-two, when we first started dating, and you said I was taking too much Ritalin? I’ve kinda blocked all the bad parts of our relationship because they don’t really matter anymore, but boy, that was a low part for you wasn’t it? I went off it cold turkey and turned into a fucking headcase. I couldn’t sleep I couldn’t think, it was like being a literal junkie; I nearly lost the case I was working on. All I'd ever wanted to to was impress you back then and I felt so ashamed. It’s weird. Having ADHD hadn’t ever bothered me and it doesn’t really bother me now, but for those few weeks it felt like you’d judged me for something I couldn’t help...not your best moment, Andrew. I understand you had addiction issues in the past, but I can’t function without my meds and I was taking as much as my doctor had prescribed. I don’t know why I’m bringing it up now, I know you truly were sorry and I forgave you and we went right up to the top from there. I guess my weak moments were not understanding your constant need to have your friends around. I never did fit in with them much. Mixon I loved, but I never could gel with the rest. I’m sorry I didn’t try hard enough; that I’d leave or retreat to the bedroom whenever you had them all over. I have friends now like you had back then, I get it more now.  
Everyone thinks I’m a homewrecker at work. I guess I am, but I didn’t mean to be._

"Oh, you’re still here," Patrick said the next morning when he woke up. Pete was checking his phone, sitting up in the bed as Patrick reached for his glasses, shoving them on. "Last time you left early."

"I apologized for that." Pete pulled a face, but he clicked his phone shut and rested it on the side as he faced Patrick. "Glad we cleared the air last night."

"Yup," Patrick agreed. "Do you want to go out with me tonight? On a date?"

"I’d love to date you. In case you couldn't tell from my meltdown last night," Pete said, his whole face lighting up. "Make it interesting, though."

"I can try," Patrick laughed. He kissed Pete’s cheek, figuring he should probably try and show he wanted this a little more. He wanted to stay in bed with Pete a little longer, but he was already cutting it fine and he needed to leave for work soon. "I need to go shower, then leave for a day of scandalized gossiping once more."

"I’m really sorry," Pete grimaced, sounding like it, but Patrick shook his head, they couldn’t change anything about it now. "I’m allowed to take my kid to school this morning, so I gotta leave soon, but text me about tonight."

Patrick spent his morning ignoring the notes he’d written over his desk to find something fun to do that night. There were way too many people on the internet suggesting physical activity, but Pete spent enough time staring at Patrick’s ass without it dangling over a rock climbing wall. Whiskey tasting sounded kind of fun, but Patrick didn’t want to spend another night being drunk and slutty. Eventually he found out that a traveling carnival was in town for the next few nights and that sounded as good as anything.

"You gonna make out with me on top of the Ferris wheel?" Pete said when they met up that night. They took separate cars because Patrick still wanted a level of distance between them. "How was work?"

"Okay," Patrick shrugged. "Just have to ignore it for now." Patrick paid for them both to get in, and he was half surprised they were surrounded by more than just teenagers. "I used to come to these all the time as a kid."

"Me too. Then, it was always the place to take girls if you wanted to hook up," Pete said, grinning wide. "I made out with a couple of guys at these joints too. You?"

"No, the only boyfriend I had in high school wouldn’t acknowledge me outside my bedroom." Patrick laughed when he saw the face Pete pulled.

"He was in the closet?"

"Yup and older so it would’ve been weird and creepy." Patrick bought them both cotton candy just to end the conversation and he felt the sugar rush three mouthfuls in. It was fun just wandering around. Patrick held Pete's hand, trying to show that he really did like him. Patrick wouldn’t go on any of the big rides because he was wussy, but he agreed to the Ferris wheel and kissed Pete at the very top, just to buy into one of the cliches.

"I think…" Patrick started to say, when they were back on the ground again. "I think you should try and win me a toy, just to make this even cheesier." Pete smirked, nodding his head and looking around. Personally, Patrick had only ever been good at the duck pond, but Pete wanted to shoot some targets. He won, which was mostly fluke and not a lot of skill, and Patrick landed himself a bright blue elephant. He ended up giving it to a little girl whose dad had just lost, she probably wanted it more than him.

It was a fun night, even if Patrick felt sick with the amount of cotton candy he'd consumed. He kissed Pete between their two parked cars, actually a little sad the night was ending. He'd still refused to go on any of the big rides, but Pete hadn't seemed to have minded all that much.

"I had a good time," Patrick said, pulling away. Pete was still holding onto him, but he didn't mind too much. "I think I made a wise choice."

"Yeah, you did. We can do the whole boring dinner date next time, alright?" Pete kissed Patrick again, slipping his tongue inside. Patrick laughed, letting it happen for a few seconds before pushing him away.

"Okay." He wiped at his mouth, feeling too silly to look Pete in the eye. "I'll see you soon."

 

_I remember the last time we had sex. Remember the Monday night? Jesus Christ. I guess you were worked up from the gym, but I always liked it when you took me from behind. The feel of your beard against the back of my neck, I could feel your heart against my back. We were in the living room, right? I’d just finished the weird case with that incestuous family. Anyway, I’d just got out the shower and was fixing something to eat and you were in the living room, gym bag at your feet and I remember starting a stupid argument about something, but you just laughed, grabbed me, and then you kissed me and honestly the next thing I remember was resting my cheek against the coffee table as you ate me out. You were good at that, the best ever. I was such a slut for you. Anytime you wanted me I’d let you have it. I remember you fucking me like that, both our knees burning from the rug. I had one hand braced on the carpet, the other pushing back, pressing a finger into myself to feel you sliding in and out. Then you pulled me up, until I was fucking sitting on your dick, in your lap, and I think we both just lost it. You called me a good boy because you knew I liked that...that I'd been pissy and moody until you started to fuck my brains out. Was I always such a bitch? I miss that, Andy. I don't have sex like that anymore. Obviously, I miss having sex with you, but I wonder when I start to have it again will I be able to fight and enjoy it like I did with you? or will I remain as passive as I have been recently? I could go for a real nice slow blow job right now, but I don't want one from anyone but you._

"What are you doing?" Patrick panicked, because he’d left last night’s letter on the side. Pete had come over early the next morning, and Patrick had forgotten all about it. Pete’s eyes were focused on the words and his cheeks were burning red. Patrick grabbed the note and crumpled it in his hand. "Don’t read that. It’s private."

"I’m sorry, I was reading it before I knew what I was reading," Pete kilter-ed off and then frowned, scratching at his chin. "You were pretty explicit in that considering you're so frigid right now."

Patrick's head tilted up, eyes boring into Pete's frowning face. "No one is to read that... It's not. It wasn't for you to see and what I write down has nothing to do with the way I feel right now. I don't give a shit if that makes me frigid or not."

Pete sighed, falling down onto the couch, hand folded over his face. "You have every right to not want sex right now, but I've now got a shit-load of imagery that's gonna be hard to shift. I've got another round of mediation that I will not be thinking about today."

"Sorry," Patrick shrugged, letting go of the anger. "I'm surprised you could read my writing."

"Eh." Pete was still flushed red and it was pretty cute even through Patrick's humiliation. "Don't get weird about it but I'm gonna lay it out there."

"...Okay."

"All those things Andy did to you... I wanna do them too. I wanna hear the noises you make as I eat you out. I wanna fuck you even when you're in a bad mood and watch you try and fight the lust. All I have from our time is the way you asked me to choke you and then puked."

"You need to get laid," Patrick insisted, meeting Pete's red face with his own. It was maybe a bad thing to say to Pete, considering his inability to stay faithful in the past. "And I've apologized for what happened."

"I know. Man, _Patrick_." Pete rubbed a hand over his face again. Patrick just laughed, letting him suffer in his thoughts. They'd planned to spend the day together, until Pete remembered he had mediation with his ex. Patrick had the day off, so he'd most likely end up wandering downstairs to Vicky's, listening to her bitch about how much she hated her job. He was having his dinner date with Pete that night though, so that would be fun. Maybe they'd talk about something other than Pete's divorce and Patrick's dead boyfriend.

"It's my favorite thing ever..." Patrick started, then wishes he hadn't. When Pete looked over, he figured he may as well finish. "Getting rimmed... Getting eaten out, or whatever you call it. It's best to me. I like it. Over anything. I get kinda loud about it."

"Good to know." Pete squeaked out and Patrick laughed quietly. It was pretty funny having that affect on someone.

"Just telling you, you know, for uh, future reference." Patrick winked, for the first time feeling like himself when it came to sex. Perhaps his letter to Andy the night before had shifted something in his head.

 

The last time Patrick went out on a dinner date, Andy had got killed. Surprisingly, it wasn't taking over his thoughts as he got ready. Andy was always on his mind, but no more tonight than any other time. He actually had less romantic things on his mind as they sat down at the fancy Italian restaurant.

"How long have you worked in this department?"Patrick asked Pete immediately after they'd ordered their drinks.

"Uh, a couple of years. I've been in Homicide for eight but I was in a different precinct for a while. Why?" Pete was fiddling with his cutlery, his legs bouncing. He was nervous, but Patrick didn't know why. It was pretty cute though.

"Why are you nervous?"

"What? Uh, I dunno. We're in a restaurant, I'm wearing cologne and you look really good tonight. It just feels like more, or at least I can't goof around in here like I can on all our other dates." Pete shook his head from the thoughts, leaning over to take Patrick's hand. "Why were you asking how long I'd been in the job?"

"Because I didn't want to offend you by this next comment, but as you've not been there long yourself, you won't have to shoulder any of the blame."

"Oh geeze." Pete pulled his hand away, sitting back. "How are you gonna offend me?"

"I just said I'm not gonna offend you, but I'm going through all the unsolved murders that I've been asked to look over and this department has to have the most cases I've ever seen. Like in the last five years alone the accumulation of unsolved murders is fucking insane. How is that not something that has been addressed?"

"There was a big shake up a couple years ago, before I turned up. That's when the boss came in and shook things up," Pete said, looking at Patrick like he knew he had a plan.

"Oh that's good, so he should be on my side." Patrick nodded his head, smiling up at the waiter when he came to take their order. Patrick was fairly certain there was a rule about never ordering spaghetti on a date, but he did so anyway.

"What side? Patrick, this is supposed to be a date," Pete said, when he'd ordered a pizza and the waiter had walked away. He sounded a little exasperated, but Patrick didn't care.

"Yeah, but I'm motivated. I'm pissed off because I'm being punished for sleeping with you by getting shoved into an office on my own. I can't do all this alone, I need some help."

Pete's eyes narrowed. "What kind of help?"

"I need names of people you know that would be willing to work with me part time. Coroners, family liaison officers, maybe a few uniformed cops."

Pete stared at Patrick for a good few seconds before the penny dropped. "You wanna start a cold case team?"

"Yeah. I can't fund it myself, but the amount of families that have been left with no answers, the amount of bodies that haven't found peace. I also… " Patrick licked his lips, tapping his fingers against his chin.

"Spit it out."

"I'd need someone in a supervisory role, someone that works in Homicide already that can manage the team." Patrick took pause and watched Pete figure out exactly what he was implying. His cheeks burned a little, even as he dropped eye contact.

"Wouldn't you want to run it?"

"Fuck no, I'm more of a behind the scenes guy, but we work well together. We cracked the Larkson case in no time and that was me in a real bad state." Patrick tapped his fingers again against his chin again, a nervous habit. "What do you think?"

"I couldn't say no to an opportunity like that," Pete said and he smiled so bright that Patrick returned it immediately. "But you're gonna need to get, like, permission and funding from the boss and he's kinda grouchy."

"The evidence I have about how fucking inept this department has been should give me enough leverage. It's an embarrassment and it needs to be changed." Patrick sat back in his chair and smiled politely when their food arrived. "I haven't been motivated in anything since Andy died and this has propelled me."

"Being propelled suits you," Pete smirked. Then frowned playfully. "I'm always complimenting you, where's my reciprocation?"

"I just made you head of my would-be Cold Case squad," Patrick laughed. "and, you know, I did once say they should mold dildos after your dick."

"You did," Pete grinned. "Best ego boost ever."

Patrick had a wild turn around of spirit after their meal. They'd flirted the entire night, talking excitedly about their would be team. Pete was enthused, looking genuinely happy since the first time since… Well, Patrick doesn't know.

They ended up in the passenger seat of Pete's car, which was _all_ Patrick's doing. He was high on the mood of the night and Pete just seemed happy that Patrick was initiating and not acting awkward and weird for once.

"This is, like, so much, way too much." Pete was rambling on as Patrick pulled open Pete's belt buckle and groped him through his boxers. "I mean, not too much. This is great."

"Shut the fuck up." Patrick was turned on, for the first time in a long while. This wasn't him forcing himself to try and feel something, it was better than that. Pete's hands were expert in getting Patrick's shirt undone, fingers touching Patrick's nipples, before sinking down into his belly. He was staring and Patrick felt uncomfortable for the first time.

"I could suck in?" Patrick suggested, laughing it off. It hadn't bothered Andy, Patrick had been far bigger in the past, and he'd been a fan of Patrick's squishy side anyway. Plus Patrick had just eaten a giant bowl of pasta.

"No, I like it." Pete rested his hand against Patrick's stomach, which was sort of weird. "Good to see you've put weight on from before."

"Yeah. This is more my natural state." Patrick bumped their noses trying to wiggle into a better position. There was limited space even with the seat pushed back and Pete was having to take Patrick's full weight. He was trying to own it, trying to not care. He grabbed Pete's hands from his hips and moved them to the very tops of the sides of his thighs. The sigh Pete let off was pretty fucking hot. "M'still not gonna let you fuck me."

"Nah? That's rude." Pete's hands slipped upwards, groping Patrick's ass. Patrick moved in to kiss him, but ducked his head at the last moment. "You let me before."

"Yeah, you were bad and I was fucked up. We're taking it slow, remember?" Patrick stuck a hand into Pete's pants, fingertips stroking in a gentle tease. Pete shivered beneath him, as Patrick licked a path up the side of his neck. It was fun, no longer being passive, but playing as well. It was fun to just kiss and jack someone off for a bit. "You know, I have this trick I do with my mouth...I drink a lot of tea, a lot of hot tea. You probably noticed, but it means my mouth is always really hot...really warm."

"Uh-huh." Pete swallowed thickly, eyes bulging as he stared at Patrick's mouth. He lifted his finger, pressing it to Patrick's mouth, watching it slide in. Patrick sucked on his finger slowly, curling his tongue around it, laving it like he would a cock. He squeezed Pete's dick with his hand, feeling him shiver slightly. "I want you to suck me off so bad right now."

Patrick let Pete's finger fall from him mouth, licking his bottom lip to stop himself dribbling. "Not tonight," Patrick whispered, mostly because he wasn't doing oral in a car. He had standards these days.

There was a whole lot of tongue; a whole load of wet chins and lips when they started to make out again. Patrick was getting overheated in the steamed-up car, not paying mind to the fact they were in a parking lot outside a restaurant. Pete had wormed his hands down the back of Patrick's pants, which was a feat, considering the tightness of them. He groped and grabbed at Patrick's ass, but didn't try to take it any further. Patrick was having a whole lot fun, grinding back and forward, one hand wrapped around the back of Pete's neck, the other on Pete's dick. He was clumsy about it, knuckles brushing Pete's hard stomach or getting caught up in his t-shirt.

"Are you gonna reciprocate?" Patrick pulled away. The ass touching was nice, but he wasn't going to come from it. Pete squeezes one cheek lightly, gasping when Patrick rubbed his thumb against the underside of his dick.

"Sorry, s'just your ass is like a magnet for my hands. Don't even mean it." Pete pulled his hand out, sliding it around the front, but Patrick just started laughing, squeezing a little too tight to Pete's dick.

"Never say that again," Patrick said, but the laughing just made it better. His mouth felt too raw for kissing again, but it was good. He slid his hand down from Pete's neck, clutching at the thin t-shirt he was wearing instead. Pete was more or less useless beneath him, grabbing at Patrick's thighs but too wrapped up in having his own dick touched to deal with Patrick. Patrick lifted higher, knees pinching either side of Pete, hand around the headrest until he was at a decent enough angle to wrap a hand around them both.

"Oh fuck, that's good," Pete said, hand on the small of Patrick's back, the other moving up Patrick's throat. It was good, he squeezed tightly, briefly, but then just slid it to the back of Patrick's head, tugging on his hair until Patrick lent down to kiss him again, their dicks rubbing half in his hand, half against each other. Pete was lifting his hips, so they were thrusting just right for a good few seconds, enough so they both let go around the same time.

It was gross, basically coming in his pants like that. It never got better, but Pete was a dad, and therefore had Patrick going through the glove compartment until he found tissues. Patrick mopped them both up, laughing, because he felt so loose and free and it had been forever since the last time he'd enjoyed it. Sex in the past few months had been something he'd forced himself to do, to partake in, even if he didn't really want it.

"Your legs must be dead right now," Patrick said, tugging his pants up and falling with no grace into the driver's seat. His knee hit the middle of the steering wheel and squeezed out a few beeps of the horn until he shoved them down.

"You have the best body ever," Pete said in response, which was sweet, but probably a lie. He'd screwed around with a ton of people, Patrick was at best mediocre, but he wasn't going to let that insecurity get in the way of a good come down.

"The novelty will wear off," Patrick laughed, looking down and realizing he was unbuttoned to the navel. He did the buttons up, watching Pete zip himself up. He was about to say something about Pete spending the night at his house for some PG-13 rated movies before there was a loud buzzing. Patrick looked down, but Pete was pulling his phone out.

"Shit, it's my son. I have to take this." Patrick sat awkwardly as Pete took the phone call from his kid. It was pretty late, close to eleven. The boy sounded upset from what Patrick could make out, and Pete was using the same hushing tones he used on Patrick when he was crying down the phone to him.

"Is everything okay?" Patrick asked when Pete finally hung up. Patrick had felt like an asshole, sitting their with Pete, when his kid clearly needed him.

"Think the divorce has hit him hard. I didn't think it would hit him this bad," Pete rubbed at his face. "He's still so young. I gave him my old cell phone so he could call me, but I don't know."

"You should go see him," Patrick said. "This is probably really scary and confusing for him."

"You think I should?"

"Well, I don't have kids, but my parents did break up when I was his age. I missed my dad a whole lot when he stopped living with us." Patrick tried to flatten his hair and ignore the awkwardness that had suddenly seeped into their movements. He felt more like a homewrecker now than he had at any other point. "You're not gonna be able to focus on anything if you don't see him."

"You're right." Pete rubbed at the back of his neck, his eyes softening when he saw Patrick. "Sorry. I feel like I just ruined a great date for us."

"It was still a great date, but you have more important things right now." Patrick leaned over, going to kiss Pete, who unintentionally moved his face so that Patrick caught his jaw instead. "Just uh. I hope your kid's alright, and we'll talk or text at some point." Patrick open his door, more or less falling out. He waved to Pete, who still looked bad about the whole thing, but Patrick took it as a chance to reflect...or just talk to Vicky about it.

Patrick went home and showered, cleaning dried come and sweat from his body. He tried humming under his breath to stop any bad thoughts creeping in. When that didn't work, he twisted the water to freezing and that stopped all thoughts.

He went down to Vicky's apartment in his pajamas, Penny in his arms. Patrick found her sprawled on the couch, a magazine in her lap. He bent down as Gizmo rushed to him, swooping him up until he had the two poms under each arm, and was falling onto her couch.

"Have you ever dated a guy with kids?" Patrick asked, lifting a dog so she could rest her legs in his lap. She gave him a look from under her heavy bangs before shutting the magazine and throwing it on the floor.

"Trouble in paradise with our favorite divorcee?" she asked, stroking Penny when she went moseying over to Vicky.

"Not really, but we had a really good time tonight but then his kid called really upset and it made things awkward. Should I expect that every time?"

"How should I know?" She shrugged, giving him the once over. "Did you finally get past first base?"

"Barely third, but it felt like real sex? At least, it felt like the best kind of sex I've had in months, like, it wasn't traumatizing at all. It's weird doing it with someone when you don't know each others bodies yet though."

"That's the fun part," she laughed, but Patrick winced.

"Not for me, but I mean, it was good. We had fun, but now I feel bad because he has a legit family. His kids probably hate me, everyone else thinks I'm a moral-less homewrecker."

"His kids are little, they won't understand much," she said, sitting up. She put her hand on his shoulder. "You're overreacting like crazy. Yeah, it's a weird situation, but don't worry about it. You wanna get drunk?"

"I shouldn't. I have a big meeting with my boss tomorrow, and I need to be able to use the power of persuasion. He doesn't know about the meeting, but I have determination on my side."

Vicky's interest was suddenly piqued. "Ooh. How you gonna do it? You gonna go all sweet and soft or dirty? Those are your two options, right?"

"Don't think he'll appreciate soft, I'm thinking assertive and confident. Can I borrow Gabe's cologne for tomorrow, that's sort of the smell he gives off. Where is he?"

"In bed. He was out partying with some pensioners after a big win at work, got wasted on port and lemon." Vicky started to laugh so hard that Gizmo yapped at her. She leaned down and he licked her chin in response. "You wanna stay here for tonight?" Patrick was a little weirded out that she knew exactly what he wanted, but he nodded his head all the same. Tonight would be a night where his head wouldn't shut off and he'd rather not be alone.

Gabe was completely dead to the world when they slipped into the bedroom, though not a huge snorer thankfully. Vicky slept between them both, and it was a bit of a squeeze, but it felt safe. Patrick almost slept well.

If Gabe was confused as to why Patrick was in their bed the next morning, he didn't say a word about it and simply looked at Patrick with bloodshot eyes as he asked to borrow his cologne. He nodded his head before dashing off to the bathroom. Patrick stole Vicky's magazine from the night before and took it back to his apartment with Penny.

He dressed in what he figured was his version of power dressing; adding a tie and shirt beneath his cardigan. He wasn't nervous about this, for whatever scandal he'd accidentally caught himself up in, it had at least given him a thicker skin.

"Sir, I need a word," Patrick said, walking straight into his boss’ office when he headed in to work. 

"Stump, what can I do for you? I really could do without any drama today."

"I don't come here with drama, but I do come here with a proposition." Patrick stared levelly. He'd always been such a goody-two shoes for the most part, too scared of going against power. He tried to think about Andy telling him to do what his heart wanted, tried to gain strength from a dead man.

"I would rather you just get back to the work you're paid for."

"And what about all the work that hasn't been done in the last few years. Sitting alone in that room, I've come to see how incompetent the department has been. The turnover of solved cases is horrendous, like--"

"You're talking above your station."

"I'm talking because I can't sit back and pretend it's okay, nor can I sit in a room by myself, looking over these cases with no help. That's not going to solve them." Patrick kept his hands presses on his knees, even as his heart raced.

"Are you suggesting something?"

"My partner died last year and I was left fairly comfortable. If you halve my salary and put that toward administrative help for me, then I want to set up a group of people to help. I can source a coroner to help. I have someone that can do the admin side of it. I'd maybe need a couple of uniformed officers to have an ear to the cases and I've already got some of the guys from Homicide to agree to help out on a part time basis. I know you're gonna say it's out of your hands, that we don't have the funds for this, but we need it desperately. I know the turnover has been better since you've taken over, but that doesn't mean all the cases that weren't solved should just fade away."

"You want me to set up a Cold Case squad that you run, despite only securing yourself a role here after a month?" It was maybe asking a lot, Patrick was a lot younger than most profilers running teams. 

"I have people that have already agreed to help out. I don't want to run it anyway, Detective Wentz has offered to supervise it for me." Patrick laid his hands out on the table, wondering if maybe the last part was a step too far considering the look he got. 

"Of course he has," he said, to which Patrick's cheeks only burned a little. "He's currently suspended pending an investigation. Is he really the best man for the job?"

"He got stabbed off duty," Patrick started, before remembering it really wasn't his place. "But I know I work well with him. Past the rumors, or anything that may have happened between us in our personal life, he's someone that I trust to run it. He's already pulled some favors for me and found people willing to help out."

"I need to think about this, Patrick. You're asking a lot for someone that hasn't meshed with this team at all."

"Here are three files I've pulled, since I've been locked in that room I've found discrepancies and patterns through all three that weren't picked up on. If I had a team behind me we could get some real answers."

"Leave me the files and I'll let you know my decision." He didn't sound happy, but he never did. Patrick nodded, lending his hand for a shake, he got one and left the room, tripping over his own feet at the door. It wasn't his most graceful moment. 

Patrick decided he wasn't going to do any real work, not until he had an answer. He sat in his dark office with the magazine he stole from Vicky’s, reading it with his back to the window. After a while he tucked it in the drawer and pulled out some lined paper, wanting to write to Andy instead.

_For the first time in my life I was assertive, Andy! You would've been so proud of me if I'd done this when you were alive. I think you'd have been happy for me to settle in one place for a time… if it was in Wisconsin, obviously. Maybe you'd take me out to dinner, like it was my birthday, or maybe you'd try and cook for me, which would be appalling, but I'd lie and say I loved it. I think you'd kiss me softly on the veranda and I wouldn't complain about your beard. I think I'd put my head on your chest and pull your arms tight around me. That would be nice, wouldn't it? To go back and do that like we used to. I miss you everyday, Andy. I think I always will, I'm trying to see it as a good thing. I'm better now at least, better than I was before._

Patrick was called into the office the moment he came back from lunch. He sat straight and tried to look assertive again, but his boss just rolled his eyes at Patrick's stance.

"You get six months to show me this is worth it. I've been thinking about setting up a team for a few months, but I'm taking you up on your offer of a pay cut to put toward someone else's wage. I also won't have any of my staff neglecting live cases to work on yours. You come second, understand?"

"Yes, I understand." Patrick tapped his hand excitedly on the desk. He hadn't been entirely certain it would work out like this. He'd thought it'd be harder. "We'll have results. I promise."

"No promises until I see results, and I don’t want funny business between you and Wentz." Patrick wasn't sure what that implied, but he nodded. "When he's back from suspension, he can start work with you. Trohman can help you out as well, they're partners. It'll be easier that way."

"He already said he'd help," Patrick said. He'd asked Joe earlier in the day and he'd said yes like he knew the plan already. Pete had clearly told him all about it. 

"Of course he has. I mean it though, I want results from this, Stump. Nothing else."

"You'll have ‘em. I swear!" Patrick stood up, and shook his hand. He'd done something right, something good for the first time in forever. He didn't even trip over as he left this time. 

Patrick left work that day with a light step to his walk. He was elated, something he rarely felt these days.

"Well, fuck. You look good." Patrick dropped his car keys at the voice, turning to see Pete staring at him. He grabbed his keys, but let Pete grab at his hips, staring him up and down. Patrick only pushed him away when he caught a group of their colleagues watching them together.

"People are watching," Patrick said, by way of explanation. Pete turned to see the group staring at them in distaste, but he shrugged and pecked Patrick's lips.

"They're gossiping anyway." Pete pulled back when Patrick still remained rigid. "So, I just got out of a meeting. I'm on probation for three months, but apparently I'm heading up your squad."

"Yep. I fucking aced it." Patrick left out the part where there had been plans for a team to start anyway. "Do you wanna come over tonight to celebrate?"

"Yes, but I have some paperwork and stuff to do first." Pete touched light fingers to Patrick's jawline.

"That's fine. I need to ask Vicky something anyway. Call me when you're coming over." Patrick pushed Pete's hand away, still an eye on the staring going on over Pete's shoulder.

Patrick found Vicky in his own apartment, which wasn't all that unusual, but she did have his old case files spread out over his coffee table.

"I'm fucking addicted to this shit," she said by way of hello, looking up as he dropped his keys on the counter and took a seat next to her. "Did your assertive meeting go well today?"

"Yup. Actually I wanna discuss something with you." She narrowed her eyes at him, closing the file on her lap. "You've done admin work before, right?

"I worked the reception at a shitty hotel for two months, why?"

"I'm starting up a team, working on some old cases but I need someone to do the administrative side… more like a PA than anything else. Plus, you're familiar with my notes, I'm gonna need to upload them somewhere for reference. Stuff like that…"

She was already interested, Patrick could see the way her eyes had widened. "Are you being fucking serious?"

"Yes. You'll get full pay too. It's part time right now, but that could change. It'd be pretty awesome to work with someone that actually likes me."

"I could be an adviser for those shitty true crime shows," she smirked, going a different route. "This is like seriously cool, Patrick. I'm so glad I took pity on your sad little face all those months back."

"Yep." Patrick laughed. "We're gonna be working together, we already practically live together. It's gonna be good, maybe."

"I'm guessing Pete's a part of the team?" she gave him a look, to which he could only nod.

"Yeah. He's coming over tonight to celebrate." She wrinkled her nose up but he shook his head. "Not like that."

"It's always like that, but maybe I'll go celebrate with Gabe." she sat up, kissing Patrick's forehead and winking.

Pete came around with Indian food later that night, along with a stack of printouts. Patrick caught sight of the peshwari and practically swooned.

"I've got a task tonight, you can help me with it," he said, dropping the food onto the counter. "Also figured I should apologize for kissing you in front of everyone earlier. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I think I need to grow a thicker skin. I'm just gonna be thought of as even more of a floozy than before." Patrick took a seat with his food, practically salivating over the taste. "Nerdy little homewrecker."

"You're not a homewrecker," Pete said softly. "It's not on you."

"No one believes that, but it's fine. I'm learning to deal with it." Patrick knocked their shoulders together, snagging a bite of the sweet peshwari. "This is my favorite. Lucky guess?"

"It's sweet, fruity, kinda doughy. Remind you of anyone?" Pete shoved a bhajji in his mouth. "Reminds me of someone."

"Doughy is a little harsh," Patrick insisted, but it sounded like a compliment above anything else.

"You're not offended," Pete said, giving Patrick the once over. "And I like it anyway."

Patrick's mouth was burning by the time he'd finished his curry. He was starting to doze as he rambled to Pete, clearing up the foil containers.

"We should all be going clean anyway. Read it in Vicky's magazine. Clean eating… paleo." Patrick waved his arm, as Pete wandered back into view.

"Food coma got you talking all whack?"Pete said, coming back with the stack of paper. "Help me with this."

"What is it?" Patrick grabbed his glasses from the side, lifting his legs so Pete could sit next to him.

"Potential properties for me to move into. I can't deal with Joe's any longer and I want somewhere for my kids to stay. I've narrowed it down to, like, eight."

"Okay." Patrick frowned down at the sheets in his hands. "What are your top priorities?"

"Near enough to my kid's school, close enough for work, but not too near my ex. Three bedrooms and a nice garden." Pete flicked through the sheets. "How long did it take for you to get that farmhouse with Andy?"

"I fell in love with it when we saw it, but I mean, to say it was a fixer-upper is putting it nicely. Andy and his friends turned it into my dream home," Patrick laughed, thumbing the paper on his lap. "It took a serious eighteen months to get it decent."

"It's a shame you had to sell it," Pete said, hand beneath Patrick's knee. "Sounds like you loved it."

"I did, but everything in it reminded me of Andy and I couldn't breathe, but it's fine. I had the dream home once, and that's alright. More than what a lot of people have." When Patrick looked over Pete was staring at him in contemplation. He didn't say anything though.

They narrowed the houses down to three after an hour of pushing the pages back and forth. Pete was adamant that it had to be three bedrooms, even if that hiked the price up.

"I'll call and book some viewings tomorrow on these," Pete said, leaving the three possible houses on Patrick's coffee table. "You know, I could even leave some space on a bookshelf for your mommy porn."

"I wouldn't ask that of you," Patrick smirked. "Maybe I'll rent some yard space off you so I can have some chickens."

"That's still a pipe dream of yours?" Pete moved them, so he was half on top of Patrick. Patrick wanted the weight of him on top, wanted to be beneath someone. His legs made a gap for Pete, their hips lining up.

"Yes. Dunno why, but it is. Grief has made me weirder if nothing else." Patrick stroked the back of Pete's hair, which was still an awful shade of blond.

"Better weird than boring." Pete's hands were getting frisky, but they always did at that time of night. Patrick laid beneath him and let himself be touched, touching back. He was too lazy and tired to want anything more, but Pete seemed alright with that.

He woke up the next morning with Pete tucked up behind him, hands roaming over his stomach. It didn't take long before he was laughing, slapping Pete's hip.

"Being weird, asshole," he said, rolling onto his back. Pete was awake and gurning way too early. "What time is it?"

"Time to wake up… you didn't set your alarm, but that's alright." Pete leaned down, kissing Patrick on the mouth. "I'm here."

"What a fucking line," Patrick said, Pete laughing on top of him. The kisses to his neck were nice, and he could fall in and out of sleep with it, but he did have work. "Can we move this to the shower? Kill two birds."

Patrick could think of worse ways to shower. It was fun having Pete's tongue in his mouth and his hands in his hair. It made it so that he didn't ever want to get out. He wanted to stay this way for a really long time.

"Wash yourself." Pete pulled away, grabbing the shower wash from the side. Patrick stared at Pete through the water, licking his lips in confusion before grabbing the bottle.

Patrick was not an exhibitionist in any way. He hadn't ever enjoyed putting on a show for any of the men he'd slept with. Still, he did as Pete asked, soaping himself up, trying not to laugh when Pete wrapped his hand around his cock. It was the weirdest few minutes, though far from the worst. He cleaned his hair and his body, as Pete jerked himself, never taking his eyes from Patrick.

"Weirdest two minutes of my life," Patrick said, when Pete had come. His body was incredibly clean; lemon fresh. Pete was breathing heavy, smiling too, but staring down at Patrick.

"Turn around," he said, stepping into Patrick's space again, mouth on Patrick, using his own hands on Patrick's hips to turn him.

"What are you doing?" Patrick asked, leveling his palms against the tile. Pete kissed the nape of his neck, his teeth sinking down after.

"Your favorite thing, right?" Pete slid down onto his knees behind Patrick, who barely breathed for the next three minutes.

"That was awesome," Pete said when they were both dressed and in Patrick's kitchen. Patrick was how he always was after he'd had his ass eaten; affectionate and boneless. He should've been finding his keys and shoes and leaving for work, but he'd much rather make out with Pete instead.

"Yeah, you can do that again." Patrick kissed Pete's mouth, tasting his own mouthwash. "Told you it was my favorite thing."

"You weren't lying. I like this side of you!" Pete laughed, pressing his thumb beneath Patrick's lip. "Even if the the whole getting me off thing freaked you out."

"That was creepy, but livable with. Much more favorable than heading to work." Patrick stepped away when he really couldn't push the time any longer. "Now to a full day of dirty looks and whispers."

"Yeah, well, I have another afternoon of divorce mediation, count your fucking blessings." Pete raked a hand through his hair, scanning the room for his jacket. "I'm gonna look at some of the houses, too."

"It'll go okay," Patrick said, even though he had no clue. "Try not to get nasty. Not that I understand a thing about divorce."

"We're trying," Pete hesitated, tugging on his coat. "I have to go, but we'll both make it through the day, Patrick. And then who the fuck knows what will happen, but I'll text you either way."

 

_Andy, I think this will be the last letter for a while… the last of this section anyway. I do like writing to you, I can pretend you're not really dead this way. I guess it's cathartic, like writing a diary, but I was always too lazy to do that in the past. I know you never believed we were soul mates, but I did. I think we matched pretty fucking perfect, kind of like a puzzle, right? Only since you died I'm not the same Patrick. When you died parts of me fell apart and other bits grew in, so hypothetically we wouldn't fit anymore, would we? I'm not your Patrick anymore, just as you don't even exist anymore. I have a new job, I have friends I adore and a dog (two, basically) that are the best fucking thing. I think I fucked things up a lot for myself this year, but it's worked out for me. Maybe I'm just trying to justify stuff that happened. I more or less broke up a marriage. I sleep with a man that has continually lied to me, but makes me happy in a warped way. It sounds bad on paper, but I think you'd be proud of me all the same. I didn't completely fall apart, at least. I still miss our life together, it was pretty fucking perfect, right? You should still have let that car hit me, I know I'm less to the world than you ever were. Goodnight._

Patrick made it to his first birthday without Andy without too much fanfare (he cried himself to sleep). Even Andy's birthday wasn't horrifically traumatic (he drank himself to sleep). The next big milestone was the anniversary of his death; the night they ate at their favorite restaurant in their favorite booth before walking back to the car like they always did, until the part that always haunts Patrick's dreams. Dread crept up on him at work. Pete was back and they'd started up their team. They'd been making progress on the case, but Patrick felt the numbness creeping into his bones. He wouldn't let it get to him this time, and he had an idea.

"I lost him a year ago tomorrow," Patrick said softly to Vicky when they were cooking dinner. In a year he'd ditched everything he'd known and made friends that were irreplaceable. He didn't like the world on days that he couldn't see Vicky or Gabe. Pete, Joe and his sweet family.

"You doing okay with it?"

"Dunno. I think I wanna drive up tomorrow… I have something I wanna do. You wanna take a road trip?" He didn't have to look up to see her nod. She pretty much always went along with his plans; good or bad. It was awesome working with her because she nearly always backed his ideas. She may only be admin, but everyone else was pretty intimidated by her. It worked in Patrick's favor for the most past.

"You sure you don't want Pete tagging along?"

"He's taking his kids to the zoo tomorrow and it's… it's not really a thing to do with him." Patrick flipped the noodles in the pan, looking up when the door opened and Gabe walked in from work.

Patrick had met Pete's kids a few times, even taken them bowling once. It was nowhere near as bad as he thought, despite how terrified he'd been. They hadn't hated him, they hadn't refused to talk to him. It had been interesting and new, but they kept their relationship quiet and calm for the most part. Pete always spent the weekends with his sons, and a few nights a week at Patrick's. It made things easier on them both. 

Vicky wasn't exactly thrilled to be awake and driving at dawn, but Patrick had barely slept and couldn't wait much longer, so he'd agreed to take the first part of the drive. She just slept the whole time, as Patrick drove and drove and drove back onto roads that were familiar only a year previous. It seemed a lot longer.

"Where the fuck are we?" Vicky asked, when Patrick pulled up to a rocky park. There were stones in his stomach, building up into his chest. He was certain he was going to puke.

"We had Andy's memorial here. His ashes were spread near that tree." Patrick hesitated, pointing to the large oak tree at the very top of the hill. "I refused to go. Everyone told me I would regret it, but I don't. This wasn't a place for me, it was somewhere he came with his friends. I'd already said goodbye to him, but this… this is his resting point, I guess. I just wanted to come here."

"We can stay as long as you want," she said softly, rubbing his forearm. He touched her hand back, patting it gently.

"You can stay here, I won't be very long. I might come back a bit soggy, is all." Patrick unclipped his belt, grabbing what he needed from the back seat.

Patrick took his time, hoodie pulled up over his head. It was a bright day with little wind and dread had overtaken the numbness. He could tell them apart well these days. When he got to the tree he touched it with his palm, his knuckles, the tips of his fingertips before he stepped back and took a deep breath. He sat cross legged, the damp ground soaking his pants. He didn't care even as he pulled out the stash of letters he'd written over the past few months.

In his mind this would be the last time he'd come here, but he had a feeling he'd be back in a year's time with another stash of letters. He grabbed the lighter from his pocket and set alight the first letter, watching it peel and burn up. He burned them one by one, in the order he wrote them until they were all gone. 

He knew he was crying, but he figured he had the right to on a day like this. He had a pile of ash at his feet by the time he'd finished, and eyes that were pretty fucking puffy. Vicky was smoking by the car when he walked back down, but there was no sarky quip, just a small smile. 

"I wanna adopt a kid in a year," Patrick said on the drive home. Vicky laughed, like this was another one of his silly plans. "Nah. Seriously. I want a daughter or something. Do they give single men kids? I have money so probably."

"This sounds exactly like your doggy day care plan. Didn't you want chickens before that? A kid is a step up from both of those."

"What I need is a house. I'm gonna get a nice townhouse and I'm gonna have Penny and some chickens in the yard and there'll be room for you and Gabe to stay over, but a nice attic bedroom for a kid. Kids love attic bedrooms. I'd paint it whatever color she wanted."

"Dream big, Patrick," Vicky said, stroking his arm gently. She sounded soft and he didn't really like it. 

"If I had a daughter I'd tell her about Andy. I'd bring her here so she could see his favorite place." Patrick tapped his fingers on the glass, watching the scenery fly by. 

"Just try and think things over a little first, especially on a day like today," Vicky said. "Maybe just enjoy you life for now."

"It's hard on a day like this. What a fucking year," Patrick coughed when he felt the emotions getting the better of him. "Let's turn the fucking radio up."

Patrick hummed along to the radio the rest of the way home. He wished he'd have brought one of his books along with him. Pete had brought him a whole new shelf load for his birthday and he'd only just started to get through them. He didn't need to read them so much anymore. 

"I’m not going to nag you because you've been pretty good about the whole Gabe thing," Vicky said, after a while. Patrick hadn't been listening, letting her words drag out before he turned to her. 

"I’m sorry I wasn’t listening," Patrick admitted, holding his hands up. 

"I said I’m not going to nag you, but I think you should be careful. Pete is a good guy, but he still cheated on his wife. He might do the same to you." Her words were cautious, if kind in his direction, but Patrick just nodded his head.

"I think about that sometimes, but I can’t do anything to stop it, y’know? Guess that’s just a bridge to cross if it happens." Patrick had thought about it, wondered if Pete would fall for someone else in the way he’d latched himself to Patrick; whether there’d be a time limit before he got bored of Patrick’s grief over Andy and want someone stable. Putting his trust in someone that’s shown themselves to be untrustworthy was hard, but Patrick knew that was on himself. He wanted this and so he would have to deal with whatever happened, good or bad. 

It was a long drive back to his apartment in Chicago, but it went quick with Vicky beside him. Gabe and Pete were both there when they got back, watching a soccer game together on Patrick's TV. Patrick wondered briefly if he gave his door key out too easily, but then the dogs were pawing at his legs and he soon forgot that strand of thought as he scooped them both up. 

"That’s kinda gross," Gabe said watching the dogs lick Patrick's face, but he was soon standing, patting Patrick's knee and heading over to Vicky in the kitchen area. 

"How did it go?" Pete asked, as Patrick took a seat next to him.

"Okay. I've decided on another great plan everyone's going to try and talk me out of." Patrick smiled at the weary face Pete pulled. "Are you staying over tonight?"

"Yeah, if you want me to."

"I do. It's gonna be a bad night, I'll probably cry. I can tell already, haven't done much crying today, considering." He hadn't done much crying at all in the past month, but he'd been anticipating the floodgates reopening the moment he hit the anniversary.

"I kinda expected it today. It's fine, don't worry about it," Pete said. He lifted his arm and Patrick tucked himself under it, not wanting to talk about it any longer. He just stared at the TV until the sadness changed from shallow waves to a damp feeling in his chest.

Gabe and Vicky started working on something to eat as they watched TV. He settled himself down by listening to the rhythm of Pete's heart and the way his hand stroked gently through Patrick's hair.

"Did you have fun with your kids? " Patrick asked eventually, cheek warm against Pete's soft shirt. He plucked his glasses off and tossed them to the coffee table, rubbing at his eyes. He was suddenly exhausted.

"Yeah, took 'em to the zoo. The little one is super into the giraffes right now, so that's pretty cute." Patrick felt the rumble of Pete's laugh under his head and he rubbed his palm over his chest in soothing circles. 

"That's good." Patrick pressed a kiss to Pete's lips, fingers replacing his mouth as he pulled away. "You've been good to me."

Pete looked ready to say something, mouth opening beneath Patrick's fingers, but then Gabe was calling their names. Patrick could smell cooked food, something spicy, and so he left it there for the time being, pulling Pete up with him and tugging him over to their friends.

**Author's Note:**

> All of the books Patrick read are real...Harlequin.com is a real eye opening experience


End file.
